


A Little Human Contact

by Quallian42



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asexual!Geralt, Cuddling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non sexual romantic relationships, Slow Burn, Touch-Starved, professional cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:41:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 58,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23979934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quallian42/pseuds/Quallian42
Summary: Geralt has now been officially divorced for longer than he has been married. Eskel and Lambert celebrate by buying him a session with a professional cuddler named Jaskier. Sometimes a little human contact can change everything
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 882
Kudos: 1191





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This was first posted as a one shot, but took on a life of it's own. The story itself is finished, and updates will happen regularly as each chapter is edited and polished. If you like the story please leave a comment. Thank you for all of your kind words that inspired me to explore this universe further!

“I can walk to the door myself.” Geralt muttered, feet firmly planted on the curb next to Lambert’s old pickup truck.

“Uh-huh.” Eskel agreed, not sounding convinced.

Lambert shoved Geralt, who retaliated with an elbow to his gut.

He wasn’t sure which of his two equally moronic brothers had decided this was a good idea.

This, being an hour long appointment with something called a cuddler. No, a professional cuddler. Named Jaskier.

Most brothers, trying to give insulting prank gifts usually went for fart sprays, or dick shaped food. Geralt had a drawer full of novelty trucker hats and sheep blow up dolls from previous birthdays, christmases, and other assorted gift giving occasions. At this point, he had just started pulling a random item from the drawer and rewrapping it in newspaper when he needed a gift for Eskel or Lambert.

Which would explain why they had graduated to buying him certificates now instead of physical objects they might get back later.

Geralt wasn’t really sure what most brothers gave as presents to celebrate a divorce day anniversary. Most brothers were probably too tactful. Maybe some alcohol, or an invitation to go to a game to take his mind off the fact that he now had been officially divorced for longer than he had been married. Not that Geralt was keeping track.

He was pretty sure that most brothers did not hire professional cuddlers. Most people probably didn’t even know that there was such a thing. Geralt was still slightly suspicious about that term, but the scant information he had been able to find online about this mysterious Jaskier made him seem above board. No happy endings or hidden menus as far as he could tell.

It was still ridiculous.

“Will you go on?” Lambert groused, making a show of bracing against the truck door and pushing against Geralt, “Move your fat ass already.”

“He’s scared.” Eskel commented from the seat, propping his crossed arms on the open window,and resting his head on them.

“I am not scared of - Stop it!” Geralt swatted Lambert away. 

“He’s scared he’ll like it.” Eskel continued, and briefly Geralt pictured the automatic window rolling up and decapitating his younger brother. The thought relaxed him.

Geralt had planned to put the certificate in the drawer and forget it ever existed. But part of the gift had apparently been a forcible kidnapping and transportation to his...cuddle session. At least they had caught him before he had started cleaning the garage, so he was at least clean.

He had just managed to get one hand wrapped around the chrome handle, the other around Lambert’s face, keeping him at arm’s length, when the door they were parked in front of swung open. 

In the doorway stood a young man, handsome enough, with brown hair, and blue gray eyes. The man looked from Geralt, to Eskel, and then to Lambert. Eskel wiggled his fingers in greeting. One shaped eyebrow raised before he ignored them completely, turning to offer a hand to the mousy young woman following him, stepping her out of the office and onto the sidewalk. “Next week at two again?” It was a confirmation, more than a question, his voice soothing and full of warmth. Geralt watched as his hand lingered on her arm a second too long, not holding, but resting there, allowing the woman to step away and break the connection.

“Of course. Have a good weekend, dear.” The woman nearly floated down the street, and the man watched her for a moment before turning back to the three brothers.

“You’re early.” It wasn’t disapproving. In fact there seemed to be a hint of amusement. Geralt let go of Lambert’s face, and shifted so that the man, Jaskier he guessed, couldn’t see Eskel trying to pry his fingers off the truck handle. 

Jaskier noticed, and his lips quirked downward slightly. “Eskel, Lambert.” he said by way of greeting, before focusing on Geralt, large blue eyes staring straight into him, face smoothing back into a more cheerful expression. “Geralt, please, come in.” He made a show of holding the door open, tucking the other hand behind his back, giving Geralt plenty of space to pass him.

Geralt wasn’t really sure why, but he did go in, stepping into a completely normal looking, if small, waiting room, and was pleasantly surprised when the man shut the door right in Lambert’s face, with probably a little more force than was necessary or professional.

. . . . 

“Jaskier”. The young man introduced himself and held out his hand. Geralt shook it out of reflex. Jaskier paused for a moment and when there was no answer he continued smoothly, “You must be Geralt.”

Geralt grunted an affirmative, and he saw the huff of laughter that the slighter figure tried to hide.

“I take it this wasn’t your idea? You don’t seem very comfortable.” fingers squeezed lightly and Geralt jolted, realizing that his hand was still being held. He yanked it back, fighting the urge to wipe his sweaty palms against his jeans.

To his credit the younger man took it in stride. “Please sit.” he motioned towards an empty seat. “Can I get you something to drink? Water or tea?” 

“No.” Geralt sat, reluctantly. “Thank you.”

Jaskier pointedly took a seat across from him, a few feet away. “I should have realized when your friends…” there was another pause, an obvious invitation to allow Geralt to offer up some information. He had to admit, Jaskier did seem to know what he was doing.

“My brothers. And they’re assholes.” Geralt grumbled.

“Ahh. Brothers. When they came in to make the appointment and get the paperwork they seemed cagey. I just assumed they were, uh, weirded out. Did you bring the paperwork with you?”

“They didn’t mention paperwork.” And why did you need paperwork to cuddle? What sort of trouble had they gotten him into?

The frown was back on Jaskier’s face. His fingers fidgeted, rubbing against his thumb. Then he sighed.

“They didn’t mention paperwork.” Jaskier parroted back. Geralt lifted one shoulder in a shrug.

“I very clearly told them that you would need to sign the consent form and fill out the questionnaire before I would do the introductory session.” 

Consent form? Introductory session? Geralt’s grip on the armrest tightened.

Jaskier tilted his head to one side. “Well, I can only assume they didn’t sign you up for a cuddle session out of any sort of good will. I’m sorry that they tried to use my services to make you uncomfortable.”

Geralt hummed, non committedly. Was he really that obvious?

“If you’re interested I can explain the process, and you can fill out the forms now. But, to be perfectly honest you look like you’d rather eat a cactus.”

“I’m not a cuddler.” Geralt gritted out.

Something seemed to shift, and it was subtle enough that Geralt wasn’t exactly sure what had happened, but the man in front of him seemed to melt back against the chair, expression becoming more natural, like Jaskier’s professional mask had been loosened slightly.

“That’s okay. Look, I don’t have any brothers, but I have enough friends to spot a prank when I see one. I promise, absolutely nothing will happen unless you explicitly want it to. You can just sit here the entire time if you’d like, or- “ Jaskier got up, skirting around Geralt and opening up a door behind him to reveal a small inviting room. Geralt could see a large overstuffed couch, a shaggy rug, and what looked like the arm of an upholstered chair.

The younger man flourished a hand. “You can go hang out in my...uh, well technically I call it my cuddle den, but I don’t think that’s really helpful right now..my..other room? There’s music and drinks, scented candles if that’s your- nope I can tell that is not your thing. No candles. We can sneak out the back and get some coffee?”

Geralt snorted. 

“The important things to remember are that I’m not going to forcibly cuddle you against your will, and that your brothers just wasted a ridiculous amount of money.”

Jaskier disappeared into the other room, and Geralt just sat there, listening as he seemed to rummage around for something, glasses clinked, a drawer opened and closed, and there was the distinctive pop of a metal cap coming off a bottle. Jaskier’s head appeared around the door frame, a large sunny smile on his face. “Guess what? I forgot about it, but I actually have beer in here. Do you want it?”

Well, who was he to turn down a beer? Geralt shot a glare at the tinted office window, where he could barely make out two forms huddled against the glass, trying to peer in, before following Jaskier into the other room.

. . . .

Geralt wasn’t exactly sure what he had expected a professional cuddler’s lair to look like. But it wasn’t a studio apartment. There was another pop as Jaskier opened the beer. He handed him the cold bottle as he passed by, before flinging himself into an armchair that was wide enough to allow him to sit cross legged. There was the couch and rug he had seen from the doorway, a little fake fireplace, maybe a few too many potted plants, and a large bed with possibly the fluffiest duvet in existence. The beer had come from a small fridge tucked unobtrusively in one corner.

“Hmm”. 

“Thank you, it’s quite nice isn’t it?” 

“I didn’t say it was nice.” Geralt chose the couch, sitting a little stiffly on the edge.

“I can translate. That was an approving hum.” Jaskier grinned. He had a book in his lap, purely to give the illusion that all his attention wasn’t focused on the uncomfortable man now sitting in his cuddle den. “You can prop your feet up if you want.” 

“I’m wearing shoes.”

Jaskier shrugged, and Geralt allowed himself to relax a little further into the couch, though he kept his shoes, and feet, firmly on the floor.

They sat in, oddly comfortable, silence for a moment, before Geralt broke.

“How much exactly is a ridiculous amount of money?”

“For an introductory session? Two hundred fifty dollars up front.”

Geralt’s heart nearly stopped. But then he realized he hadn’t been the one paying for it.

“For an hour?” he clarified.

“Yep. That covers all the paperwork, research, the well...facebook stalking to make sure they’re not perverts or anything. The price helps with that too. Weeds out people looking for a cheap thrill or a one off session. Oh, I know you haven’t signed a contract, and you probably won’t be back, but I do have security cameras up. They’re video only in here. No audio.”

Geralt nods approvingly. The cameras weren’t concealed, but he appreciated the warning. 

Another beat. He took a sip of beer. Craft. Of course. Probably local. “How much are your...regular sessions?”

“That depends.” Jaskier answered. “Mostly on what the client wants and how long they want it. I have whole package levels, one to three hours, different positions to choose from.” 

Geralt startled, and Jaskier laughed. 

“I’m not joking. There’s a notebook full of examples by the bed. Some people just want a simple cuddle, someone to play with their hair while they read a book or watch tv. That’s usually sixty dollars an hour. Other people expect more, uhm, personalized experiences. They want to talk about their day, or have me play something-” he indicated a guitar like instrument propped in one corner. “-specific props, like a picnic blanket and cheese board or wanting fresh flowers in the room. It can get expensive, but I aim to please.”

“How expensive?” Damn his curiosity.

Jaskier glanced away. “It would be impolite to say.”

“Hmm”

“I can translate that too. And yes, it’s just cuddling thank you very much”. The mock offense in his voice was tempered by a teasing smile. 

“It’s a good job. And I’m very good at it. Worth every penny. Plus, I just like it. Being able to help people and make them feel that they’re not so alone. Our entire culture is touch starved, and this way at least people get some human contact. Not to mention the endorphins and serotonin.”

Geralt didn’t miss the way Jaskier’s eyes started to light up as he talked about his work. Well, he was stuck in here anyway right? There was no harm in talking about it.

“So what is an introductory session like when it isn’t a prank?”

“Stop me if you get bored.” Jaskier warned, taking a sip from his own bottle. Grape soda, Geralt noticed. No drinking on the job for him then. “Some of my clients don’t appreciate my natural eloquence.”

“They think you talk too much.” Geralt translated.

“Hmm.” Jaskier imitated Geralt, before continuing. “That’s actually a part of the introduction. That and the consent form. The consent form is all very boring legalese, but basically it outlines that cuddle sessions are completely platonic and non sexual, all clothes stay on, no inappropriate touching or sexual advances. Notice of videotaping and a confidentiality clause, safety measures that sort of thing. It’s especially important since I work alone, but again, I usually screen my clients pretty thoroughly.”

“Hmm” 

“Yes, I realize I didn’t screen you.”

Geralt was amused to find out that Jaskier could understand him pretty well.

“And I realize that was a mistake. I got your information from your brothers, figured I could finalize it when you brought your paperwork in. But in my defense, Geralt Morhen isn’t exactly a common name, your picture was on your company website and you don’t have a criminal background. Plus, you’re in my datebook, so if you’re planning on kidnapping me, I’ve left a paper trail. Anyway-” Jaskier’s hands waved again and he plowed on.

“The questionnaire is the important part. What’s your goal? Likes? Dislikes? Do you have any triggers that I should know about or types of cuddling you’re not comfortable with? Specific scenes you want to play? Snuggling in bed with pajamas is pretty popular, but I need extra time to get the bed warmed up, and then laundry services get involved. To be blunt, how much do you want to spend? There’s a lot more that goes into being a professional cuddler than just...grabbing on like a koala. Each client is unique, and I work really hard to give them what they need or want.”

“Like how you were a completely different person with that woman?” Geralt leaned further into the couch, his spine relaxing into the soft cushions. He threw one am over the back and took another sip of beer.

“You noticed.” Jaskier seemed delighted. “Yes. Some people like that, other people like when I’m a little more open. A few people even actually like me.”

He wasn’t sure why, but Geralt felt a small twist in his stomach at that admission. Jaskier didn’t exactly seem unlikable. But maybe he wasn’t getting the full effect.

“Why do people pay for...cuddling?” he asked, fumbling to change the subject.

“Why do people pay for sex?” Jaskier retorted, matter of factly. “It’s easier. More convenient. There’s fewer strings attached. Some people don’t have the option, or don’t feel like they can get physical affection without paying for it. I actually work with a few therapists to help their clients become comfortable with human contact. Desensitization.”

There’s another few moments of silence, and this time it’s Jaskier who breaks. He’s twisted around in his chair, loosely draped across the arms and studying Geralt.

“Do you mind if I ask why your brothers bought you a cuddle session? It seems kind of...specific for a prank.”

“I’m divorced. Five years exactly.” Damn. Jaskier was good at his job, and he wasn’t even doing anything. “Which is a year longer than the marriage lasted.”

“Ahh. Well, uh condolences? Congratulations? I’m not really sure which is appropriate.”

“It’s fine. We’re fine. But I haven’t dated since, and my brothers are assholes. Especially Lambert.”

“Personally, if I were being an asshole about it I would have taken you to a strip club, but judging by that scary face you’d probably punch me for suggesting it, so plan B, they decide you need a good cuddle.”

“I don’t cuddle.”

“Noted.” Jaskier didn’t seem offended. “Me? I’m a total cuddle slut. Can’t get enough. I’m a hugger too. All types of hugs. Great big bear hugs, lift you off your feet hugs. All hugs are just...great.”

Jaskier tapped the edge of his soda bottle against his bottom lip, thoughtfully.

“Do you live alone? Any pets or…”

“I have a cat. She’d probably kill you if you tried to cuddle her.” Roach, the half feral monster of a cat that Geralt had fished out of someone’s wall, was the least cuddly cat he had ever met, and he had scars to prove it. Geralt thought for a moment, and then continued.

“I have a young daughter, two weekends a month, a couple of weeks during summer. But...other than that, it’s just me.”

The admission earned him a genuine soft smile from Jaskier, who didn’t push the issue. 

They sat in silence again. Which seemed to be a pattern, but Geralt couldn’t tell if it was deliberate. He had no idea how much time had actually passed. A clock ticked faintly, somewhere, blending it with the ambient noise and faint, almost silent instrumental soundtrack coming from nowhere in particular.

Eventually, Jaskier finished his soda and got up, pausing to take Geralt’s empty beer bottle as he passed by. When he returned he was holding a bottle of water in one hand, and a clipboard in the other. Geralt took the water bottle warily and set it to the side, eyeing the clipboard. 

“May I?” Jaskier asked softly, indicating the other end of the couch. Geralt grunted, and the younger man perched delicately on the edge of the cushion. “This is the consent form. If you’re okay with it, if you’re comfortable with it, I’d like to try something. I promise, I won’t do anything without making sure you’re okay or explaining it, and I won’t even touch you without your express permission. We’re skipping a few steps, but you seem pretty unorthodox.” 

Geralt glanced down, skimming the document. While the wording was a little more formal, it was pretty much what Jaskier had explained earlier, with space for some personal information and a signature. Intrigued, he filled in the information, signed and dated. Why the hell not? Jaskier took the clipboard and pen back, carefully not touching Geralt’s hand. He signed it as well and set everything off to the side.

“I’ll make you a copy before you leave. Okay, first things first. You are obviously a feet on the coffee table guy. I’d prefer shoes off, but you’re the guest.” 

It must have been the ridiculousness of the situation, but Geralt found himself toeing off his shoes, stupidly grateful that he was wearing one of his nicer pairs of socks. Gingerly, he put his feet up on the table, annoyed that Jaskier was right, and this was actually more comfortable.

“Now,” Jaskier declared. “I’m going to sit beside you. Our feet might touch, and my head might end up on your arm.” He nodded towards Geralt’s arm, still fiung over the back of the couch. “But, I’ll keep the rest of myself to myself okay?” Geralt nodded, and Jaskier smiled again, seeming proud of himself for some reason.

“If you want me to move, farther away or closer just tell me. You’re in charge. Now, you’re my last client today, so I put a little extra time on the clock to make up for your asshole brothers. We have about 40 minutes left.”

Jaskier took a second to fiddle with a small remote that apparently controlled the fake fireplace before settling in, just as he had said.

Geralt forced himself to stay still, not letting his muscles tense up. Jaskier wasn’t touching him at all, except for the slightest pressure, and the tickling sensation of hair, against the inside of his elbow, but he was close enough that Geralt could feel the warmth of him, could smell the faint foresty soap or shampoo he used. Not heavy enough for cologne. And the grape soda on his breath, but he might be imagining it. 

Jaskier, for his part, seemed to melt into the sofa, the way Roach would turn into a furry puddle in a patch of sunlight. He oozed relaxation and contentment, watching the fireplace as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

Slowly, in increments, Geralt felt the tension in his body unwind. His head felt lighter. Experimentally, he let his arm relax, and it shifted lower, resting a little more heavily against Jaskier’s shoulders. The younger man didn’t acknowledge the change.

This wasn’t terrible. 

He thought back, trying to remember the last time he had just sat like this with someone. There was Ciri of course, but that wasn’t the same. For one there was usually more Disney involved, and while he enjoyed the time he got to spend with her, he was her dad, and his brain was always spinning, thinking about what he needed to cook for dinner, or the trip to the zoo the next day, or how Yennifer would react when she found out Ciri had suckered him into huge sugary, syrupy pancake breakfasts two days in a row. 

Yennefer. Their marriage had been over long before the papers were signed, but he remembered holding her close, or laying with his head in her lap when everything was still new. Those memories were raw. There had been others before her. And it was true, Geralt wasn’t really a cuddler, but he hadn’t even realized how little human contact there had been in the past few years. Almost a decade really. More? His gut clenched around the realization. 

And now, Jaskier, a perfect stranger, was offering that so easily. Happy just to sit beside him, or on the other side of the room if that was what he wanted. And Geralt knew there was money involved, knew it was a job and there was a consent form and a questionnaire, but he was there, and he was warm, and all he wanted to do was help. He could have easily showed Geralt the door by now.

He swallowed tightly.    
  


“Closer?” he requested, uncertain, and Jaskier obligingly, slowly, turned in, resting his head against Geralt’s shoulder, pressing their sides and legs together, but keeping his arms wrapped carefully around himself. Geralt hesitated. It didn’t look very comfortable. “Your arms?”

One arm stayed tucked between them, but the other hand reached out, laying splayed against Geralt’s chest, over his heart, and Jaskier rested a little more fully against his side. Warmth spread from the points of contact and the world seemed to slot into place, leaving the older man feeling slightly dizzy.

“Like this?” Jaskier asked, keeping his hand still, a soft weight anchoring Geralt to the couch.

“Hmm” Geralt curled his arm around Jaskier’s shoulders, settling him in place. He felt him smile, felt his eyelashes brush his neck.

“I think I can translate that, but I’d like to hear an actual yes”.

“This is fine.” Geralt assured him, surprised to find that it really was.


	2. Chapter Two

Geralt swore and snapped the laptop lid shut, before sliding it across the table, clearing space for his head to drop down on the polished wood with a soft thunk. Roach gave him a reproachful huff of a noise at having been woken up from her nap, and slid off the pile of paperwork to stalk some other part of the house. 

No one really liked doing the administrative work associated with running a home repair business, but usually he could at least do it. Eskel always managed to weasel out of it, or screw up the paperwork, and Lambert had broken two different computers before giving up completely on the concept of spreadsheets. Vesemir, by virtue of being both the owner of Morhen Repairs, their collective foster father, and more or less retired to a small cabin far from civilization, simply had the luxury of delegating the work.

So Geralt did the basic record keeping and administrative work. Except, apparently, tonight. He had been staring at the same bill of sale for an hour, a phantom weight, and the smell of grape soda pressing into his side, distracting him.

It had been five days, and it was getting ridiculous.

The truth was, he had managed to think of little else beside the session he had with Jaskier. Sitting down to watch TV and his arm would automatically prop up on the back of the couch. Had he always done that? Probably. It was more comfortable, and it felt weird enough not to that the position must be ingrained. When he had a beer after dinner it was always compared to the nameless craft brew that he had been offered in Jaskier’s cuddle den...in the other room of the office he had gone to. Geralt was by no means a beer snob, buying whatever was on sale, or available. Lately, for the past five days actually, his usual drink tasted oddly flat.

The worst was the packet. The thin manilla folder sat on the counter of the kitchen, creased from where Geralt had shoved it into the back of his jeans, smuggling it out of the office under his jacket to avoid his brothers’ scrutiny. It contained a copy of the contract he had signed, a fresh questionnaire, a cuddle fact sheet, business card and something called a “self care aftercare sheet”. He hadn’t looked at the papers, but Jaskier had insisted on explaining each thing as it went into the folder, with his soft voice and his dumb cheery smile.

He had been very insistent about the aftercare part. Cuddling could be, how did he phrase it? Emotionally exhausting? Overstimulating? All he had done was sit there for half an hour with a complete stranger snuggled up against him, with an arm draped over his chest. 

It was ridiculous.

If anything had been exhausting, it was dealing with his little shit heel brothers. From the moment he had stepped out Jaskier’s office they had either been busy teasing him or hounding him for details. Lambert had asked for a demonstration.

Luckily, Jaskier had given him some advice that had helped stem the worst of the teasing. Lots of practice, the younger man had explained conspiratorially, dealing with friends who were relentless assholes. First, claim confidentiality. What happened in the office stayed in the office. Second, suggest that his brothers book their own appointments if they were that curious. Considering that they thought the idea of professional cuddle sessions was a joke worthy of tasteless pranks, that went over about as well as could be expected, even without having to offer the coupons that Jaskier had slipped in with the rest of the paperwork.

Geralt had found that shoving Lambert’s face into a tray full of beige paint worked pretty well. Eskel was too fast for that, but he couldn’t escape half a turkey and mayo sub left to fester in a hot truck cab. Both the paint and the smell would come out, eventually. 

To be completely fair to the both of them, the prank had worked to take his mind off the divorce and Yennefer. If only he could think of something besides the hour he had spent with Jaskier. It wasn’t even Jaskier exactly. Though it probably didn’t help that the young man had been stupidly charming and polite, with his tasteful little fake apartment and potted plants, and comfortable couch and craft beer. Or the way he seemed to relax around Geralt, joking and a little too loud. Or that he didn’t make fun of the big dumb contractor who got choked up asking for a hug.

It was mostly the hug. The cuddle. Whatever it was. He was sure it had some official name in Jaskier’s cuddle position notebook. He hadn’t asked, and the information hadn’t been offered, probably because Jaskier, as a professional, could tell how much Geralt did not want to talk about it.

Didn’t stop him from thinking about it. 

The truth was, Geralt could count the number of people he touched, let alone hugged, on nearly one hand.

Roach, the damnable beat, refused to be held or cuddled, which was fine with Geralt. They had come to an arrangement. He would feed her wet cat food, water her, scoop her litter, and she would, occasionally, sit next to him, or lounge around in the same room as him. When it was time to go to the vet, he simply had to set the carrier out and she would jump in, rather than suffer the indignity of being chased around the house and wrapped up in a towel like a snarling, spitting burrito. Sometimes though, he could reach out and scratch behind her ear. Usually if he had splurged on the food that came in a pouch. 

His parents, probably, at some point, though he didn’t remember them really. His father had been out of the picture before Geralt knew about the concepts of dads, or that he shouldn’t eat crayons. His mom soon after. But he must have hugged her. Been held by her.

Vesemir wasn’t touchy feely. A clap on the shoulder, a rough pat on the back. Maybe a hug at Christmas, if he got drunk and nostalgic enough. Lambert was much the same, though in their wilder days Geralt had often had to hold his younger brother’s head out of the toilet as he threw up an ungodly amount of beer and liquor, which must have counted as affectionate familial contact, to use jargon from the questionnaire that Geralt was not thinking about.

Eskel was a little more handsy. Quicker to slap his arm when he was telling a joke that he thought was funny, and more free with slightly drunk hugs around significant holidays. But he couldn’t really picture anyone in the family being cuddly.

Both brothers had a string of girlfriends, and an occasional boyfriend, so Geralt could only assume they were perfectly capable of showing physical affection to certain people. He just really didn’t want to think about that too much. 

The few women before Yennifer didn’t really count. Renfri had ended badly, and Geralt had never gotten the hang of dating, or understood why it was so popular in the first place. It was mostly uncomfortable and expensive, and he’d always felt awkward when it came to displays of affection.

Yen. They were compatible at first. There was the sex of course, which had been frequent, adventuresome, and a little physically precarious at times. They had held hands, and sat together. She would press her feet up against his thigh when she curled up on the couch with her laptop, working late into the night. Sometimes he would lay with his head in her lap, her fingers carding through his hair, as they watched TV or discussed whatever case Yennefer was currently entrenched in. 

Looking back, it was painfully obvious to see the way they had drifted apart. Her to a promising legal career. Laptop, couch and Geralt giving way to a home office where she could work in peace. Him to long rides to nowhere, as many repair projects as he could juggle or hours in the gym, trying to outrun his own thoughts. Head up his own ass. They would slide apart and clash back together, and by their second anniversary they were miserable together. Geralt swung from craving her touch like an addict to feeling sick when her hand brushed his arm.

Ciri. Who had come along unexpectedly, and kept Geralt and Yen together for two more years, had made them friendly with each other, if not exactly friends. The first moment he had held her tiny little body in his arm, staring down at her round face, tomato red from screaming, he had fallen in love. Ciri, really, was the only person that Geralt ever hugged now. Two weekends a month, Two weeks during the summer. 

She liked to use him as her own personal jungle gym, still light enough at seven years old to swing off his arms, and young enough to beg to be picked up and swung by her ankles. During movie night she sat in his lap, or fell asleep sprawled against his chest. Sometimes she would insist on braiding his hair or holding his hand as they walked through the park.

Geralt always felt exhausted when she left. Wrung out somehow. Keeping up with a kid could do that. But thinking about it now, he had to admit, some of it might have to do with packing a whole month’s work of physical affection into four days, three and half if Yen was being unreasonable about drop off times.

Jaskier.

Did that even count? 

It had been a little over an hour. A half hour at most of actual whatever the hell it was. And of course Geralt wasn’t going back. Even if he did, did it count? The man was a professional cuddler. It was literally his job. He had packages and specials. Affection with dollar signs attached. So Jaskier’s touches could be had, for a price. Though he did seem genuinely happy and caring, and must have liked his job.

With a shake of his head Geralt picked up the laptop and moved towards the kitchen. Maybe he just needed a change of scenery. He deliberately set the machine down on top of the slim little packet of paperwork that he was ignoring, out of sight out of mind, and opened the lid again. He stared at the screen for a minute. The bill of sale stared back at him. He brought up a spreadsheet instead. 

Maybe what he needed was a beer.


	3. Chapter Three

Geralt only answered his phone because he forgot to look at the caller ID, and was expecting to hear from Eskel soon. He was also halfway inside a kitchen cabinet, taking apart an old sink disposal.

“What?” He growled.

“I’m...uh” The tinny voice on the other end of the line stuttered. “Most people say hello.”

Jaskier. 

Geralt swore, both for the unprofessional way he had answered what was technically his work phone, and because, maybe, sort of, he had been avoiding returning the professional cuddler’s call. 

“Hello.” He said blandly. “Geralt Morhen speaking. Morhen and Sons Repairs. May I help you?” He added, brandishing his politeness like a sharp stick.

“Is this a bad time?” Jaskier asked 

“No. It’s fine. I was, uh, under a sink”. Geralt grunted as he hauled himself out, and then groaned when his back protested the contortions.

“Are you sure? Because you sound busy and if under the sink is some type of handyman euphemism or-” 

“It’s an actual sink.” Geralt cut off the rambling, amused when he tried to picture the calm relaxed professional he had seen a week ago. It didn’t sound at all like the person on the phone.

“Oh. Good. I didn’t mean to bother you. I just wanted to check in, and wasn’t sure if you had gotten my voicemail earlier.”

Geralt had, a few days ago, but had been putting off returning the call.

“Hmm”, was all he said, taking a moment to wipe his hands off on the rag hanging from his belt.

“That doesn’t work as well when I can’t read your nonverbal cues, Mr. Strong and Silent.” Jaskier scolded him teasingly. “I hope you don’t think I’m being nosey or rude. It’s just all part of the service I offer. I try to check in on my clients.”

“I’m not your client.”

“Technically for an hour and twenty minutes you were. And in the packet I gave you, which I’m sure you read thoroughly and with great attention to detail, it says that I’ll check in after the introductory session to make sure you’re okay. I didn’t have your email, so…”

There was a leading pause and Geralt was tempted to wait it out. He sighed. Jaskier was just doing his job after all. 

“I’m fine.” he conceded. 

Jaskier hummed a response that implied Geralt was a big fat dirty liar, without actually calling him one. 

“I’m not booking another session.” Geralt insisted. At the prices Jaskier charged, he couldn’t blame the man for trying to keep a fish on the hook.

“That’s not why I’m calling. Of course, I’d be happy to offer my cuddling services-”

“Please don’t use that phrase”

“I’d be happy to have you as a client, but honestly I’m just calling to make sure you’re okay. And I was a little worried that you didn’t answer my voicemail, or fill out the after session survey.”

The survey that was in the packet, which Geralt had been ignoring.

“I’m okay. It was just weird and I’m not used to weird.”

“I’ve met your brothers. The ones who pranked you with a cuddling session.” Jaskier reminded him, and Geralt snorted.

The man on the other end of the line forged ahead. “I really did just want to make sure you were okay, and I completely respect your privacy, but considering that you would have hung up the phone by now if you didn’t want to talk to me, I think maybe you have some questions, or maybe something I could help with?”

Geralt had forgotten he could hang up the phone. And for a second he was very, very, tempted. But Jaskier sounded, hopeful? And somehow painfully earnest. With a start, he realized the conversation had continued without him and he shook his head, focusing on the voice at the end of the line again.

“-not exactly professional, but we could, uh, go get coffee or something, you know neutral territory, not a date or a coffee date or a sales pitch, and I could explain things? Maybe that would help you process it.”

Explain what? Process what?

His silence only seemed to send Jaskier into a faster gear, and the other man chattered nervously. “I’m sorry that came out wrong. I’m not a stalker or anything I swear and I’m not trying to hit on you. My policy is to only call once, so I won’t bother you again. I just want to help, and I shouldn’t have called at all.”

“I’m meeting my brother for lunch in an hour.” Geralt said, eyebrows rising in shock at his own answer. “But the rest of my afternoon is free.” It actually wasn’t, but a perk of handling the paperwork meant he could do it on the couch in his underwear at three in the morning for all anybody would care. The sink was almost done anyway.

“Oh!”

Geralt’s reply must have shocked Jaskier as well. There was a rustling noise, like paper being shuffled around.

“Oh!” Jaskier repeated. “Okay. My last appointment is at two today, and there’s a coffee shop across the street from me. Four O’Clock?”

“Hmm” Geralt answered.

“Translation: that’s an acceptable time and I look forward to talking to you then.” 

At least Jaskier had stopped rambling. 

“See you then.” Geralt agreed and hung up.

He closed his eyes, sighed, and with great conviction muttered “Fuck” to himself before sliding back under the sink.

. . . .

The coffee shop was a little on the hipster side of quaint. The chairs perfectly mismatched, and the wood table tops artfully distressed. Geralt had never actually seen chandeliers made out of plumbing fixtures before, and quickly calculated the cost of materials, wondering how much an interior designer probably charged for them. A hell of a lot more than twelve dollars and thirty four cents he guessed. 

It wasn’t so bad though, because the carefully lettered chalkboard menu had actually listed beer next to the americanos and flat whites. He ordered the first one on the list and then chose a table in the far corner, away from the rest of the clientele, a small, but eclectic mix of artfully distressed people, one of which had an actual vintage typewriter.

Ten minutes after four, Jaskier blew into the quiet shop, head swiveling until he spotted Geralt. A grin lit up his face and he grabbed a large paper cup from the counter as he passed by, eyes never leaving his target.

“One of the reasons I love this place” Jaskier explained, answering a question that Geralt hadn’t even been curious about. “They let me text in my order and run a tab. I practically live off their coffee and at this point I just let them make whatever they want.” He took an experimental sip. “I think today is white chocolate raspberry mocha.” He tilted the cup to read the side, while at the same time trying to sit down and untangle a bag from his shoulder. “Oh, with two extra shots. But I was close!” 

Geralt simply waited.

“Sorry. I always seem to have a lot of energy after a session, and I’m kind of a rambler.”

“I’m sure it has nothing to do with all the caffeine.” Geralt said, agreeably. 

Jaskier nodded. “Exactly. It’s good to see you again. How are you doing?”

Geralt glanced around. If Jaskier really did come here that often, they must know what kind of business he was in, and they might get the wrong idea about why Geralt would be talking to him.

“Fine.” He said stiffly.

There was a barely perceptible eye roll from his companion.

“Did you look over any of the information I gave you?” 

Geralt, in fact, had. He had felt guilty enough about ignoring Jaskier’s phone call that after lunch and a shower he had sat down and read it through in one uncomfortable sitting.

With a grunt, he pulled the completed survey out of his pocket and handed the slightly crumpled paper over.

“Oh good!” Jaskier did sound genuinely pleased, and read over the answers silently for a moment. “Well, I’m glad you liked the beer at least.” he said finally, carefully smoothing the document and folding it into neat thirds. “Would you like your feedback?”

Geralt struggled not to wince, and glanced around again. At least he had been expecting this. Apparently, Jaskier also completed a survey for his clients after introductory sessions. 

“Don’t worry. No one can hear us way back here.”

“They know you’re a professional cuddler.” Geralt argued, bluntly.

Jaskier just waved his hand dismissively. “I’m also a musician, and a writer, and a moderately successful ASMR youtuber. I also bring dates here. So really, there’s any number of reasons you might be seen in public with me. Your reputation is safe.”

Geralt decided to ignore the part about dates. “What’s ASMR?”

“Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response.” The young man answered easily, taking a sip of his flavored drink. “For some people, soft noises or quiet speaking gives them physical tingling sensations. It’s very relaxing. I just record myself talking or making noises. Usually there’s a theme like ‘Writing a Song in a Coffee Shop’ or ‘Cleaning the House’.”

“Hmm”

“It’s not any weirder than professional cuddling.” 

“And people pay for this?” Geralt asked, skeptical.

“Some do. If they’re big fans or want something custom. Mostly it’s just ad revenue. A lot of my viewers just keep it on a loop when they’re trying to sleep, so it, uh, adds up. So to speak.”

It sounded pretty weird to him, but he couldn’t fault a guy for finding any legal way he could to make money.

“So how do you become an ASMR whatever, or a cuddler? There can’t be a trade school for that kind of thing.”

The look Jaskier gave him was an odd mixture of warmth and surprise, as if pleased that Geralt was taking initiative to carry the conversation. “There’s definitely not. One of my clients introduced me to ASMR videos and one of my friends in college worked for a cuddle company. 

They would post classifieds, screen clients, even do check ins. After she assured me it wasn’t prostitution despite it sounding exactly like that, I signed up. Found out I was good at it, and after a few years I built up a big enough clientele base that I rented an office and struck out on my own.”

Another sip of mocha, a slight shift in his chair.

“It’s not like being a therapist or anything. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. Really, I just offer people a safe space where they can have some human contact. I don’t diagnose people, or treat them, or even offer advice. Well, I try not to offer advice. I just cuddle, and if they want to talk, I listen. The rest of it, the questionnaire, the contract, I’ve learned from other cuddlers, or picked up along the way.”

“What happens if somebody can’t handle it, or it gets...weird.”

Geralt thought back to how his throat had closed up when Jaskier’s foot had brushed against his leg, or how Jaskier had discreetly pointed out the small office bathroom after their session and hinted that a lot of clients liked to take a minute to wash their face before leaving.

“It depends I guess. Like I said before, It can be a pretty emotional experience. You get used to people crying on you pretty quickly. I’ve only had one or two that I felt needed more help than I could give. Luckily, most of that sort already have therapists. Guys get boners sometimes but it happens you know.”

He hadn’t even considered that. He must have looked horrified judging by Jaskier’s laughter.

“I just suggest a different position, or we take a break and let things...settle down. It’s not really a big deal. Bodies react in a lot of different ways. The worst clients are the ones that try to turn it sexual on purpose. You probably noticed all of those really specific rules in the contract about personal areas and not moving clothing? If it happens once or twice I’ll just remind them. Sometimes they don’t even realize they’re doing it. But a couple people have gotten pushy or tried to proposition me. I’m pretty sure one was a cop trying to bust me for prostitution.”

“That sounds dangerous. And you work alone?” Geralt studied the young man in front of him. He wasn’t actually much shorter than Geralt himself, but his clothing, body language and mannerisms all suggested a small, non threatening, slightly soft man. 

“I have a lot of safeguards in place.” Jaskier answered, evasiveness masked by nonchalance. Geralt knew better than to press the issue.

“And,” the other man continued, pointing a finger at his companion, playfully. “You distracted me from my original question. Which was about your feedback.”

“Go ahead then.” 

Jaskier dug around in his messenger bag, pausing to tuck Geralt’s filled out survey into one of the many pockets. He pulled out an envelope with Geralt’s name on it, along with something small and furry. “This is for you.” He handed the envelope over. “And this is for your cat. Don’t think I forgot about them.” 

The small furry thing turned out to be a stuffed koala, tiny enough to fit in Geralt’s hand, with a little t-shirt that read “A Cuddle Above, Professional Cuddling Services by Jaskier” with a phone number printed on the back. 

The young man looked slightly embarrassed. “In my defense, I only intended to order appointment cards, but it was a free sample. It’s been sitting in my desk drawer for a year and I thought your cat might like it.”

“Hmm.” Geralt squashed the bear and the envelope into his jacket pocket.

“You’re welcome. As for your feedback, I know you said you’re not interested in being a client, but it kind of seemed like you really needed it. Some people aren’t cuddlers by nature, but I think everyone needs some sort of human contact.” Jaskier paused, as if fighting with himself on whether or not he should keep talking. His tone turned serious. “And some people are touch starved. Have you ever heard of that term?”

“I saw it in that packet.” seemed a safe enough answer.

“It’s actually not that rare. It happens a lot in Western Cultures, especially with men. Humans weren’t meant to survive with no physical affection at all. I put a pamphlet in with your feedback. Look, I’m not a therapist, I’m really, really, not and frankly it’s none of my business, but I’d like to help you.”

Geralt finished the last of his beer and stood up quickly. He walked back over to the bar and threw the empty bottle into the recycling bin. In the mirror he could see Jaskier’s back. The younger man hadn’t turned and he had barely reacted, but his head had dipped slightly, and one hand was worrying the paper sleeve of his cup.

With a sigh, Geralt scrubbed a hand over his face and pulled out his wallet. “Small coffee, black.” He handed over significantly more money than a simple coffee warranted anywhere but a gentrified hipster spot, and took the cup, waving off the offer of change. “Keep it.” he muttered, already moving back to the table.

Jaskier blinked at him as he sat back down, a small hopeful smile at the corners of his mouth. The fidgeting hand was quickly tucked under the table, out of sight.

Geralt wasn’t sure what he was doing.

“Why?” He asked.

“Why do I want to help you?” Jaskier tilted his head questioningly.

He forced himself to relax back against the seat, stretching his ankles out under the table. He didn’t come here just to run away the first time he felt uncomfortable. He wasn’t a wimp.

“Hmm.”


	4. Chapter Four

This time it had only taken an hour and a half for Geralt to make up his mind. The talk with Jaskier had been strange, but more comfortable and less awkward as the conversation continued, veering, sometimes wildly, off course. While the young man may have been a professional cuddler, he was hardly, well, professional about it. He didn’t talk about specific clients or anything like that, but he didn’t seem to take himself too seriously. Apparently, that was an issue within the cuddling profession. He also wasn’t the calm, authoritative presence that Geralt had seen in the office. Louder, a bit silier, with expansive hand gestures and a verbal filter that seemed to dissolve with each shot of espresso. One or the other personas, maybe both, were at least partially an act, and Jaskier didn’t deny it when the handyman pointed out his observation. 

Geralt had learned that Jaskier was successful enough to be extremely picky about who he worked with, though he had admitted that he was more popular with the female variety of clientele, which had led to a few angry husbands or boyfriends who had gotten the wrong idea.

Jaskier had also talked about the house he had bought last year, and his temptation to burn it down for the insurance money. When he had mentioned the neighborhood Geralt had privately agreed. Old, beautiful houses that had once been the envy of the city, and were technically, probably historical landmarks, but they had been neglected for decades. Some were slowly being bought up and fixed up, Geralt had even done some work in one or two of them, but not exactly a starter home for a young, single, professional.

Whenever the conversation stalled out, or Geralt became uncomfortable, Jaskier, unerringly, was able to fit in a home maintenance question or ask for some simple advice on a bit of DIY. Geralt knew exactly what he was doing, but appreciated the distraction.

And the uncomfortable parts were mostly Geralt’s fault anyway. Sharing information about his life was like pulling out his own teeth, but he had talked a little about Ciri, a little more about his adopted family, sharing some of Eskel and Lambert’s worse antics. Jaskier had been fascinated that Geralt seemed to know at least a little about every type of home repair, from shingling a roof to unclogging pipes. They bonded over their shared frustration with doing taxes as small business owners.

They also, naturally, talked about cuddling. Why Jaskier was drawn to the profession, the pros and cons, what it was like from a cuddler’s perspective. Jaskier had a way of making it seem perfectly normal, like getting a massage, or hiring a personal trainer at the gym. Geralt still had his doubts, but it no longer seemed, well, terrifying.

After they had parted ways, and before Geralt had even left the coffee shop he had dug a coin out of his pocket and flipped it. 

He could afford another session. All he did was work and go to the gym anyway, most of his money going towards bills, an emergency fund, or into a bank account set up for Ciri’s benefit. Yennifer badgered him if he put too much of his paycheck into that though. She was successful enough to afford the best for their daughter on her own, and felt the need to prove it. So, while it wasn’t something he could really afford every week, sixty dollars wouldn’t exactly break the bank.

Heads he would book an appointment with Jaskier. Tails, he would buy sixty bucks worth of beer and donuts and forget about the whole thing. As the coin spun in the air, he instinctively hoped for heads, and the decision was made. He didn’t even look to see what it actually landed on.

Vesemir had taught him that trick when he was younger, and it hadn’t failed him yet. When you flipped the coin, you would realize what you wanted it to land on. 

Roach, the traitor, hadn’t helped by falling in love with the ridiculous little promotional bear that Jaskier had gifted her. She was currently laying on the couch beside Geralt, alternately grooming or violently kicking the toy as he slowly filled out the questionnaire. Luckily, he had made a few copies because he kept scribbling out some answers, or going back to change others.

He started with the easy stuff. Name, emergency contact, medical conditions or injuries, allergies or sensitivities, then progressed to the slightly trickier ones. He had absolutely no clue what his favorite cuddling position was, but the whole sitting on the sofa thing had been nice so he defaulted to that. After more deliberation than he thought possible, he had answered another question “Big Spoon”, only to come back later and add a question mark in parenthesis. 

No point in doing this at all if he was going to half ass it. 

A few he simply couldn’t answer. He had no idea if he had any triggers, and even after googling white noise for some samples to try out wasn’t sure if it was helpful or annoying.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t as difficult as he had thought it would be. Jaskier had done a very good job of explaining most of it, without Geralt even realizing they were talking about the questionnaire. He had a way of burrowing in under your defenses while you were distracted by his chatter, something that impressed, and slightly worried, Geralt. Not that the other man was pushy or manipulative. It just seemed to be his natural state, and there was no ulterior motive as far as he could tell. 

Once he was satisfied with the answers, Geralt copied everything over to a clean form, and checked the time. He had started on the questionnaire as soon as he got home, and it was barely eleven now. Not too late, he hoped. Jaskier had mentioned doing some of his best composing late at night, and none of the paperwork had mentioned anything as mundane as office hours. 

He took the time to add Jaskier’s contact information to his phone before sending a text, asking if he could book a basic appointment, giving a few days and times that would work, taking into consideration that Jaskier had oh so casually mentioned having some open appointment slots the week after next, and added that he had filled out the paperwork. That done, he opened up his laptop to do his actual work, hoping to calm his suddenly rioting stomach.

Only a few minutes later his phone dinged. Cautiously he slid it into view. Jaskier had responded with a thumbs up and a smiley face that had an unsettlingly large grin. He watched three dots blink below the emojis for what felt like a very short eternity.

“Glad to hear” the text read, surprisingly free of any text speak, and with proper grammar. “You can email me the paperwork, and I’ll pencil you in for next Friday. I look forward to seeing you.”

The odd mixture of professionalism and casualness made Geralt’s lips quirk up. He briefly considered sending back his own thumbs up emoji, but settled on “see you then”. He added the appointment to his calendar and then stuffed the phone deep into the cushions of the couch.

“Well, that’s that then, Roach.” He muttered, as the large black cat rolled over, tossing the small koala into the air. “I’m still not sure what I’ve gotten myself into.” He reached out, scratching her chin, and she didn’t immediately bat his hand away. “But this might not be too bad. He’s already got you acting nicer.” He tugged on the stuffed bear playfully. “You like your toy huh?”

Roach promptly bit him, and sprinted out of the room.


	5. Chapter Five

“You’re early again.” Jaskier proclaimed, after he had seen an older, nicely dressed woman safely to her car. His voice was calm and soothing, body language somehow pleasant, but muted, at odds with the loud, exuberant man from the coffee shop. “Come in, I just need to freshen up.”

Geralt followed, resisting the urge to apologize. The younger man didn’t seem upset and ten minutes was hardly early. 

“Something to drink?”

“Water. Thanks. You keep the door locked.” he observed, taking the seat that Jaskier had indicated in the small waiting room. “Why a waiting room if you keep the door locked?” 

“It came with the office.” Jaskier answered after fetching him a drink from the other room. “But sometimes people bring their drivers or caretakers, so it’s come in handy. And having a distinct dividing line between the mundane and the extraordinary can be cathartic for healing environments.”

Geralt narrowed his eyes, and the younger man laughed, shedding his earlier calmness like a snake skin. “I can never say that with a straight face. It’s something Valdo Marx told me when he saw the space. He’s full of pretentious bullshit like that. You’d hate him.” Jaskier seemed pleased by that thought.

“Hmm”

“You’re right, absolute twat but a fantastic cuddler, unfortunately. I’ll just be a minute, if you want to pick something off the menu.” He flourished a hand at a slim book sitting on a side table. Geralt could only assume it was the catalog of cuddling positions that Jaskier had warned him about in his appointment reminder. Before he could object, the younger man had disappeared back into the other room, closing the door behind him.

Cracking the seal of the water bottle, Geralt took three large gulps. He wasn’t stalling. He was just thirsty. He took another, slightly smaller gulp. Very thirsty. 

Within a minute all the water, and excuses, were gone so he set aside the empty bottle, and picked up the unassuming little book. It looked a bit like the type of photo album you could have printed online after a vacation, the cover decorated with generic closeups of intertwined fingers and the backs of heads resting against each other. It wasn’t terrible. Flipping the book open to the front page cautiously he was met with an artsy black and white, full page, photo of a bed, shot directly from above. A bed full of Jaskier and some unknown woman, tastefully, if sparingly, dressed, tangled up together, staring into each other’s eyes and looking content. One of her hands lingered on his hip, while one of his rested on her thigh.

Geralt slammed the book shut.

Jaskier had not warned him about that.

This was ridiculous. 

Geralt wasn’t sure exactly what he was referring to. Choosing a cuddle position off a menu? Illustrating your cuddle menu with your own photoshoot? His reaction was ridiculous too. He knew that. He was paying for exactly this experience, but it seemed a lot weirder when Jaskier wasn’t there explaining it.

As if reading his mind, the door opened to reveal the man himself, his linen dress shirt and dark trousers replaced with soft looking jeans and a worn shirt, hair working itself back into its usual disarray. Jaskier took one look at him and his eyes widened. Gerelt felt the tips of ears turn red. He could imagine what his face must look like.

“Oh no.” He hurried over, plucking the book out of Geralt’s unresisting hands, tucking it up under his arm. “I’m sorry, I’ve had this book so long that I forget how it might look to someone who’s not used to all of this.” 

“It’s very,” Geralt floundered for a word, trying to reassure Jaskier that he wasn’t offended or traumatized or anything. “Artistic.”

“Why don’t we take it into the next room and go through it together?”

Jaskier didn’t move until Geralt nodded and stood up, and then he let the older man take the lead, following him through the doorway and to the large overstuffed couch. Geralt toed off his shoes, and put his feet up on the coffee table like before, and after a second he put his arm up on the back of the couch, making room for Jaskier against his side. 

“You can sit here.” he said, as if Jaskier was the client, but the man didn’t seem to take offense, happily flopping himself down and snuggling into place, tucking his legs up beneath him to rest the book on his thighs.

“Artistic is right. So, back in college, one of my friends was an art major, and for one of her projects she did this entire photoshoot with a couple of us cuddlers.”

He opened the book to the first page, the one with the bed. Now that Geralt knew what to expect it wasn’t as startling, and he noticed a little index at the bottom of the page, along with some handwritten tabs along the side that seemed to match. “Couch, Bed, Chair, Variations” among others. 

“That’s her actually, on the index page. She made this as kind of a shop warming gift when she heard I went into business for myself. Stop me if you see something you like.”

Jaskier slowly flipped the pages, pausing long enough for Geralt to study each picture, but distracting him with an endless flow of one sided conversation so that he wouldn’t feel overwhelmed.

The poses were varied, as were the models. Jaskier was in a lot of the pictures, but not all of them. There was a range of men and women, maybe six or seven, all with different body types, and different ages, and grouped in different combinations. Even Geralt could appreciate the skill of the photographer.

“It might look a little pretentious, but It was a lot cheaper than having to hire an illustrator or try to put together something on my own. It also brings back a lot of good memories. She got my friends to sign the back like a yearbook. Some of them are still in the business, and I try to keep in touch.”

The younger man stopped, tapping an image of himself curled up on his side, another man mirroring his position, but slightly lower on the bed so his head rested against Jaskier’s chest. The label said ‘Forking’. They looked relaxed in each other’s arms.

“That’s Valdo.”

“The twat?” Geralt tilted his head to catch Jaskier’s eyes, smiling a little.

“Massive twat. He’s into psychic vibrational massage now or something and no one’s sure if he actually believes it or if he’s in on the scam. Last year was essential oils so my money’s on a scam.” Jaskier flipped the page. ‘Spooning’ was obvious without the label, A young, muscular, man curling protectively around a smaller woman with flaming red hair. “That’s Triss. She’s the one that actually got me started.”

A few more pages passed by, some uncomfortably intimate, a few silly looking, most just seemed...nice somehow. They moved on to the next tab, marked ‘couch’.

“You said you liked how we’re sitting now, so this section might be more your speed.” He pointed up briefly, against the opposite wall towards the fake fireplace, and Geralt noticed the TV mounted unobtrusively above it. “Keep in mind, we can always watch something. Some people like waterfalls or snow scenes. I’m actually really partial to this video I have of a bird feeder. Very soothing.”

“I think you and Roach watch the same channel”

“Roach?”

“My cat.” 

“I’m trying really hard not to make a judgmental comment about the fact that you named your pet after a gross, ugly, bug.”

“She survived being trapped in a wall for a week. It seemed appropriate.”

“Poor Roach” Jaskier said sympathetically, slowly flipping through the pages, “And now you have to send me a picture so I can properly appreciate her.”

Geralt reached out, accidentally brushing their fingers together as he tapped a picture. A man was lounging on a vaguely Victorian looking couch, One elbow was propped up against the curving arm of the couch, his cheek resting against his palm. His legs were up on the couch, loosely curled, and beside him a woman sat, almost, but not quite copying his position. Her arm was propped up on his thigh, her head leaning against his free arm, their hands were clasped together on his knee. She also had her legs curled up on the couch, and his bare feet were tucked against her thighs. It looked comfortable, close without being nearly as intimate as some of the other choices. This particular pose was called “The lean two”. Made sense. She was leaning on him, he was leaning on the couch.

In his mind he saw himself, propped up on the couch, Jaskier draped against his side. The couch should be big enough.

He hadn’t really thought he would find anything in the book to interest him. Just sitting on the couch had been enough last time, but there was something about this position that seemed almost natural. 

“This one?” Jaskier asked, studying the picture.

“Hmm” 

“Words.” The younger man reminded gently. He insisted that Geralt answer some questions with a yes or no, telling him that it was important to know exactly what his client wanted, especially when it came to touching.

“Yes.” Geralt conceded, and then, to prove that he could actually communicate, he pointed to the man, “This would be me.”

Jaskier nodded approvingly. “Do you want to try it now?” 

He resisted the urge to answer with another hum, muttering a yes instead.

“Alright. I can dim the lights, get a blanket? Put on some music? Your choice.” The brunette had uncurled and managed to haul himself off the deep couch with some grace. He sat the book down on the coffee table, open to the picture that had caught Geralt’s attention.

The sheer number of options caused Geralt’s head to spin, but his companion just waited patiently, puttering around unobtrusively with various bits and pieces of decor scattered around.

“I’m not...sure.” He finally admitted.

“That’s fine.” Jaskier didn’t seem to mind at all, taking charge. The lights dimmed, and the fireplace sprang to life. Very faintly, acoustic guitars and piano started playing, just loud enough to keep an uncomfortable silence at bay. “If you don’t like any of this let me know.”

Slowly Geralt unfroze, shuffling into position, keeping his eyes firmly on the imitation flames. The position felt fine. The couch arm high enough to prop against comfortably, the couch itself wide and long enough to accommodate him.

“Don’t worry, it’s always awkward the first time.” Jaskier teased, sliding in beside him, tucking in as if it were the most natural thing in the world, to be laying on a couch, half sprawled over a man who was paying you a dollar a minute. “I’m going to do a little adjusting”. He warned, before nudging Geralt’s socked feet more firmly against his thighs and worming one of his own arms between Geralt’s free arm and his side, so that he could loop them, hands joining on Geralt’s knee to cover the older man’s fist, waiting for it to unclench. “Relax” he murmured, dipping his head to rest against Geralt’s biceps. He managed to keep his weight light, reassuring but not claustrophobic.

Geralt tried. Deliberately relaxing his hands, and then his shoulders, letting his spine curve to fit the couch. Jaskier settled a little more firmly into place.

“Is this all okay so far?” the slighter man asked, one thumb sweeping gently over Geralt’s knuckles before going still.

“I’m not sure” he answered, bluntly honest.

It was embarrassing as hell, and memories were dredged up against his will of fumbling in the backseat of his first girlfriend’s car, sweaty hands fighting with a bra clasp that defied his adolescent hormones. 

It wasn’t the same at all. There was nothing even remotely sexual in the way Jaskier was acting, or even the way they were sitting. But Geralt’s gut was twisting and his pulse fluttered. He fought the instinct to shift away or to pull into himself. He rested his head more heavily against his fist, scrubbing a little at his cheekbone.

Against his side, Jaskier was a calming weight, his breathing even, still and steady, letting Geralt figure it out. He looked at his free hand, covered by both of Jaskier’s. He turned it over experimentally, fitting palm to palm. He let his thumb rub a circle over the back of the other man’s hand, hoping the small action was acceptable.

“This is okay.” Geralt said, hating how his throat clogged up around the words.

“Good. Let me know if you need to move. We can talk if you want or just sit here. Oh, Let me try something. Believe it or not, that’s actually me on guitar back there, piano too.” he seemed proud, rather than boastful, and began to hum along softly to the tune. The vibrations seeped into Geralt, melting the last of his resistance, Jaskier settled down, letting more of his weight rest against him.

They sat there together, neither of them speaking for what felt like hours. Geralt was pretty sure his bones turned to jello at some point.

Eventually though, Geralt felt a subtle vibration against his knee, Jaskier’s watch hinting that their hour was up. Beside him Jasker muttered unhappily, making a show of grimacing and rubbing at his eyes. “Never fails. Right when I get really, really comfortable.” He slithered off of the couch a little ungracefully and started to shake out his limbs, rolling his neck and wriggling his bare toes into the carpet.

“Hmm” Geralt was exhausted.

“Don’t worry. It will probably take you a while before you feel like moving.” Jaskier assured him, patting his shoulder as he passed by. Geralt flopped back to lie fully on the couch.

“I think I can see why you charge so much.”

Laughter bubbled up from the small kitchenette. “That’s the best compliment I’ve ever received.” A bottle of water appeared over the back of the couch, and Geralt took it thankfully, hauling himself slowly up into a sitting position. His body was tingling, warm and heavy, while his head felt like it could float off his neck.

“Just sit here for as long as you need.” Jaskier offered. “My next appointment isn’t for another hour and a half.” He came around to sit cross legged on the coffee table, sipping from a soda bottle. “Everything still okay?” 

“Yeah. S’fine.” Geralt muttered, blinking. 

“Feel okay to drive yourself home?” 

He actually had to take a minute to think about it.” Might have to walk around the block first but I’ll be okay. Is it always this weird?”

“Everyone reacts differently, but it should get less intense each time.” There was a pause. “Not that I’m implying there needs to be a next time, or taking advantage of post cuddle bliss to pressure you into-”

“Four weeks.” Geralt declared, stalling his host before the man could come up with a phrase worse than ‘post cuddle bliss’. He had done the mental budgeting in his head beforehand, wanting to prepare for as many outcomes as possible. One session a month would only be a little more than eating lunch out once a week, and he had been meaning to eat healthier anyway.”We could set it up for every four weeks?”

Jaskier beamed, and pulled out his phone, swiping and tapping for a few seconds. “Four weeks.” He repeated. “I’ll send the confirmation to your phone. Do we need to talk about anything that happened today, or do you just want to sit here in the dark by yourself for a minute?”

Apparently, aftercare was part of every session. A couple minutes of sitting by himself actually sounded pretty nice.

“The second one.” 

“Fair enough” Jaskier agreed amicably, “Yell if you need me. Feel free to use the restroom if you need it. I’ll just be in my office, but I’ll keep the door open. Otherwise you can let yourself out when you’re ready.” 

Geralt nodded, oddly touched that the other man hadn’t decided he needed to be walked to the door or escorted to his car. The office was a desk and filing cabinet, shoved against one wall of the waiting room, hidden by a small screen, but at least it offered the illusion of privacy, so that he could pull himself back together without an audience

And if Geralt’s legs wobbled a little as he left the office, well, he could pretend no one saw it.


	6. Chapter Six

After only a couple of sessions, Geralt and Jaskier fell into a routine. Geralt would always arrive early, and Jaskier would always remark on it. Sometimes another client would be leaving, and sometimes Jaskier would simply be waiting to unlock the door for him, sipping on whatever monstrosity the coffee shop had foisted off on him that day. By the time the clock officially started Geralt would be on the couch, shoes kicked off, water or beer close by, the menu off to the side, untouched.

Jaskier would be in soft jeans and a worn shirt, feet bare. Geralt had asked about it the second time, spotting a pattern, and the younger man had simply shrugged. The questionnaire had indicated that Geralt preferred soft textures, and he himself found the outfit comfortable. That was good enough for Geralt.

The sessions were all similar, but not quite the same. For the most part Geralt followed Jaskier’s lead, letting him choose how they sat together, and letting him initiate the touches. They would talk, again usually Jaskier, for a while, before shifting positions for what the cuddler called “quiet time”, where neither of them spoke, content to rest with their eyes closed. All Geralt had to do was let it happen, or speak up if he wanted it to not happen. 

As promised, the sessions had gotten less intense. Geralt left the office feeling calm and well rested, and not dealing with the exhaustion that had swamped him the first two times. He looked forward to his monthly appointments now. 

He had even managed to keep it all a secret from his coworkers and asshole brothers. One of the perks of being the second in command of a family business was that he was expected to play hooky occasionally, and as long as all his work got done he didn’t feel bad about it. 

Today Geralt was sitting on the couch, feet on the coffee table, while Jaskier sprawled beside him, long legs dangling over his client’s lap, leaving his hands to wave about to illustrate whatever story he was telling.

Geralt, honestly, had been kind of tuning him out. He thought Jaskier might have been offended when he admitted that, but the other man had just grinned. He assured Geralt that he was used to it, and had a repertoire of stories that were perfect for relaxing background noises.

His hands were resting on Jaskier’s denim clad legs, thumb rubbing soft circles into the fabric absentmindedly, another thing that the man said he didn’t mind, had in fact given him explicit permission to continue. Geralt was apparently what Jaskier called an “active cuddler”, unconsciously tracing patterns over an arm, or a back. It was a habit he had picked up soothing Ciri to sleep, and hadn’t been able to break.

The feel of the cloth, the constant quiet stream of chatter felt like stepping into the hot shower after a hard workout session. Everything in him just unwound. 

He wondered what it felt like for Jaskier. 

“You’re thinking awfully loud over there”. The calf under Geralt’s hand jiggled slightly, as if demanding attention. 

Sometimes Geralt wondered if the younger man could read minds, or if he was simply that good at reading people.

“What does this feel like for you?” he asked, nodding down to the leg in his lap. “Cuddling with people all day. Do you get anything out of it?”

Jaskier tilted his head, considering, then wiggled around to stuff a pillow under his head so he could make eye contact.

“I like my job,” he said. “I get satisfaction out of helping people, out of knowing how to help people.” the brunette seemed to be thinking carefully about what he was saying, not pawning Geralt off with a rehearsed answer. “And I like human contact. It’s not the same as cuddling with a friend or anything where there’s a personal connection, but I care about all of my clients and enjoy being with them. Sometimes it’s tiring. Emotional labor is a lot harder than it looks.” 

Geralt furrowed his eyebrows at the term and Jaskier was quick to explain. “Keeping track of everyone’s likes and dislikes, making sure they’re comfortable, remembering whether I’m supposed to be quiet or if I need to be more assertive. Listening without reacting. It can be...difficult, but it’s rewarding.”

“It’s business.” Geralt summarized.

“Well, if you want to be blunt about it.” There was no offense in the tone. “But I’m good at it, and I like doing it. Don’t you get some satisfaction out of..I don’t know, a nicely mended fence or a well painted room at the end of the day, even if it’s not your house?”

“Hmm”

“Exactly. That’s what it’s like for me.”

Geralt shifted again, and tapped twice on the limbs sprawled over his legs, the signal that he wanted out of the cuddle. He took a moment to stretch his back out. “Do you have a favorite position?”

And he hadn’t meant it like that. He really hadn’t, but it was one of those questions that couldn’t possibly come out right, no matter the context. Unfortunately Jaskier had just sat up and taken a sip of water, which went down the wrong way. Geralt reached over and pounded him gently between his shoulder blades for a few seconds until the other man could get his coughing and wheezing under control.

“Sorry.” he muttered.

Jaskier waved off his concern, “It’s okay. That was a perfectly reasonable question. It involves the bed though.” he said matter of factly, though there was a slight glint in his eyes.“Hand me the book and I’ll show you.”

“Hmm”.

“Don’t be a baby. It’s not going to bite you.”

Reluctantly, Geralt handed over the book. It wasn’t that he disliked it, he just preferred not to think about it too much. The black and white portraits of couples seemed too intimate. Jaskier, for his part, had actually offered to put it up, but the handyman wasn’t going to be bested by a ridiculous book.

“Here. this one.” Jaskier had flipped exactly to the right page, and Geralt was relieved to see it wasn’t one of the more acrobatic positions. In fact, it seemed like beginner level cuddling. A tall woman lay on her back, dark hair fanned out on the pillow. Jaskier, younger, slightly more slender than he was now, with a faint shadow of a beard, was pressed up against her side, one arm tucked between them and the other curled around her stomach. His head was pillowed on her chest, and her arm was draped across his shoulder, fingers buried in his hair. 

“Either role is fine, but I especially like being the blanket. I don’t get to be the blanket that much because that’s kind of a uh..” He hand fluttered out, accentuating an imaginary curve on his chest. “Off limit area for most of my clients.”

Right, he couldn’t exactly face plant right into someone’s cleavage and still call himself a professional.

“How much time do we have left?” Geralt asked.

Jaskier tilted his watch. “Thirty five minutes.”

“Hmm” He sent the bed a considering look.

“You really want to try this out?” the younger man translated, trying and failing not to sound hopeful.

Geralt was already moving towards the bed. “Unless you have any objection?” 

“Uh...no, no objections. Am I the blanket?”

“Yes”

Prodding a few of the extra pillows off the bed, Geralt got comfortable, on top of the duvet, testing out the mattress against his spine. He wasn’t some type of mattress conisure, but it seemed nice enough. He tucked his free hand behind his head, and stretched out the other one to make room for his host.

He couldn’t see how laying on a bed could be much weirder than laying on the couch. The worst that could happen was that he didn’t like it. And even though he was the one paying, it didn’t seem right for Jaskier to never do any of the stuff he liked.

Jaskier gave him a toothy smile and crawled over the wide expanse of bed to cuddle into his side, automatically slotting into place like a puzzle piece, one arm going around his middle, his head laying on Geralt’s chest.

“...To get the full effect,” Jaskier said, keeping his eyes closed. “You can play with my hair if you like.”

It wouldn’t be professional for a cuddler to flat out ask a client to pet his head, Geralt guessed, but suggesting something the client might like would be acceptable, and that had, in fact, been what the woman in the picture was doing. Geralt always believed that you shouldn’t make substitutions the first time you ordered off a menu. The chef was the expert after all. If it was a good rule of thumb for hamburgers, it was probably a good rule of thumb for cuddling.

So Geralt let his arm curve around Jaskier, shielding him, and his hand came up to card through the silky chestnut brown locks.

The effect was instantaneous and a little startling. All of the air seemed to rush out of Jaskier’s lungs in one big sigh and he went completely limp, all of his muscles relaxing at once.

“Sorry.” the other man muttered against his shirt, giving no indication that he was planning to move. “I forgot just how much I missed this.”

Geralt paused, then resumed stroking a hand over the head on his chest. “Are you okay?” He asked.

“That’s my line. And yes, as long as this isn’t making you uncomfortable, I am very okay.”

“Okay.” Geralt agreed.

“Are you okay?” Jaskier asked.

It wasn’t claustrophobic exactly, though he was supporting a good deal of Jaskier’s weight. It was a lot more intimate than it had looked on paper. Jaskier’s head bobbed slightly as Geralt breathed. 

But it wasn’t bad. And Jaskier seemed happy, which made Geralt happy. It made him feel like maybe he wasn’t a natural failure at this whole human contact thing, and he was managing to do something right.

“I’m okay.” He said, trying to sound confident and reassuring.

“Okay.” Jaskier agreed, and neither one of them spoke again until their time was up.


	7. Chapter Seven

“I’m getting tired of this shit.” Lambert complained, leaning backwards to crack his spine. 

“Goes by faster if you’re not whining,” Eskel offered, still dragging himself out of the crawl space that led under the house, clawing at the muddy ground. Geralt reached down, hauling him to his feet.

Neither of his brothers were wrong. The job had been shit from the moment they started, and had only gotten worse. It was supposed to be relatively simple, just reinforcing some floor joists. Eskel and Lambert should have been able to do it on their own in a few hours.

But a heavy rain the night before had turned the entire site into a puddle, forcing them to crawl through the goopy mess. A couple of possums had decided that the underside of a house was the perfect place to hide from the storm, and didn’t appreciate waking up to Lambert in their personal space. Which to be fair, that would be off-putting to anyone, regardless of species.

Then there was the dead snake. And the termite damage.Geralt wondered if the house had some type of animal themed curse.

Even with Geralt coming out to help, on what was supposed to be his nice, simple, office bound Friday, they had worked all morning, through lunch, and were nowhere near done. But Lambert’s whining hadn’t helped.

“How much longer do you think you have?” he asked, stripping off his coveralls, revealing a relatively clean t-shirt and jeans. He tossed the dirty clothes into the back of the work truck and used a rag to wipe as much mud as he could from his face and hands.

“4 hours maybe, with the three of us”. Eskel guessed, “We could grab something to eat, come finish up and get it over with.” 

“Fuck that” Lambert interjected. “I wouldn’t go back under there today if you paid me.”

“You are getting paid to go under there, dipshit.” Eskel scrubbed at a clump of muck in his hair, before sighing and giving it up as a lost cause.

Geralt ignored the bickering and pulled out his phone, opening the calendar app. Between the jobs, consultations and deadlines for work, the shared calendar that Yennifer had set up for Ciri, and his own gym, appointment and chore schedules, there was hardly any free space left. Keeping it all straight was almost another part time job.

“It doesn’t matter.” He said, stopping the bickering before it could fully start. “It’s my weekend with Ciri, so I can’t help again until Monday.” And it really was a three man job at this point, unless they waited for everything to dry out, or wanted things to take even longer. “Monday’s full for Eskel.” He kept scrolling, growing more frustrated. “We wouldn’t be able to get back here until next Friday.”

Lambert cursed. None of them liked dragging a job out. It gave a company a bad reputation, and caused more aggravation. 

“I vote we suck it up and finish today.” Eskel offered, half heartedly. “I can grab some sandwiches from the gas station.”

“No.” Geralt said shortly, still concentrating on the calendar, trying to figure out where he could shift things around. “I’ve got a thing at 3:00 and I need to go shower.” If Vesemir was willing to come down off his mountain to go look at the Hernandez site then he could team up with Lambert on Tuesday, maybe by Wednesday they could get back out here.

“He’s got a thing at 3:00” Lambert told Eskel, mockingly. “We have to crawl through mud and dead animals and he gets to have a thing at 3:00. Why do you get the afternoon off anyway?”

“Because” Geralt growled, losing his train of thought. Vesemir to the Hernendez site, right. “I have an appointment.” Then Lambert on Tuesday.

“Can you cancel it?” 

“No.” 

Which wasn’t exactly true. He had never had to cancel a session with Jaskier yet, but he assumed there was some kind of policy. He probably could cancel, but it was incredibly short notice, so he’d probably be stuck paying for the session anyway, and besides that it wasn’t fair to Jaskier. And, he added to the list of reasons not to cancel, maybe a little selfishly, he had been looking forward to this afternoon for weeks. For four weeks to be exact. 

But, he did have a job to do. A job which took priority over his personal appointments. It wasn’t fair to their client either, even if the weather and the animals had been outside of their control.

He sighed. Sometimes he hated being responsible.

“Eskel’s right. We should finish it today. Let me call Jaskier and see if I can reschedule.”

There was a silence that managed, at least to Geralt’s ears, to be incredibly loud.

There were only a few times in his life he had ever felt a rush of sheer terror. When he was ten, and had accidentally lobbed a baseball through the kitchen window, when he was seventeen, running away from cops, and a house party with underage drinking, when Ciri was three, and tumbled down a short flight of stairs.

And this moment, just now, when he said Jaskier’s name out loud in front of his brothers. He had been so busy trying to sort everything out that he hadn’t even thought before he spoke.

Just ignore it, he thought, frantically. They won’t catch it. It’s been months and months.

Lambert was squinting at him.

Shit.

“Call who?”

Geralt pretended not to hear him.

“I’m pretty sure he said he had to call Jaskier,” Eskel said, tilting his head to one side. “Jaskier. Hmm. Wasn’t that the…”

“That’s the cuddler!” Lambert cried. “Oh fuck, he has an appointment with the cuddler!” He clapped his hands together as if he had solved some great puzzle. Jaskier wasn’t even exactly a common name. Geralt didn’t know why Lambert was so proud of himself.

“How long has that been going on?” Eskel looked as if Christmas had come early, clearly delighted at this new piece of information. “Is it like a weekly thing? How does that even work?”

“Are you the big spoon or the little spoon?” Lambert butted in. 

They weren’t supposed to find out about this. It was the one thing that Geralt had to himself. His time with Jaskier, when he could just let go and relax and let himself have a little comfort. And he shouldn’t have to explain himself to them. He had managed to go this long, only to screw up now.

His brothers were still bombarding him with questions, or crude jabs but he tuned them out.

He thought back to how he felt, stretched out in bed, half asleep, with Jaskier’s head on his chest. Why couldn’t he feel like that if he wanted? Who was he hurting? It wasn’t illegal, or unethical, or even that weird, at least when Jaskier was explaining it. 

He thought about what Jaskier would say. Had said actually, when they had talked about Geralt’s family. The younger man hadn’t been happy to learn that he had been an unwitting assistant in a prank that was supposed to make Geralt uncomfortable, and had used some very unprofessional language over coffee when sharing that opinion.

Once Geralt had become a regular, Jaskier worked hard to remind him that he didn’t have to explain himself to anyone, or take anyone’s crap about their arrangement. It was a lot easier to believe, coming from him.

Geralt looked at his calendar again, and came to a decision.

“Since you want to be assholes about it, you can finish up yourselves. I’ll tell the client you’re staying late to get it done.” Geralt didn’t bother grabbing his stuff, choosing instead to stalk towards his own truck. They could clean that too for all he cared. 

“Oh come on!” Lambert kicked a tire in frustration. “You’re going to make us work until midnight so you can go cuddle up to some twink?”

Eskel was smart enough to stay silent.

“Yes. I am.” Geralt spun around pointing at his youngest brother. “First of all, it’s none of your damn business what I do in my own time. Just like it’s none of my business what you do on the office computer when you’re alone, even though I’ve told you to delete your browser history and you never do. And you.” He whirled on Eskel, who held up his hands to show that he didn’t mean any harm “are pretty cocky for someone who gets pedicures.”

“How did you-”

“Because you don’t look through your work receipts before you give them to me and I see all of your personal crap. But I don’t mention it. Because It’s none. Of. My. Business.”

Lambert opened his mouth but Geralt had built up a head of steam and cut him off.

“So, Yes. I’m going to my appointment with Jaskier. I’m going to enjoy myself. And I’m going to enjoy myself even more knowing that while I’m drinking a beer and laying around in a nice warm room, with good company, you two will be out here crawling around in the mud with each other.”

With that he turned on his heel and stormed off again, climbing into his truck and slamming the door. 

Fuck.

. . . .

“Well, it sounds to me like you handled it pretty well.” Jaskier said fondly, once Geralt had explained his earlier outburst. 

The older man hadn’t quite managed to calm down completely by the time he had made it to Jaskier’s office, hair still slightly damp from his rushed shower, poptart crumbs on his shirt, where he had grabbed the first thing he could find in the pantry that he could eat while driving. He couldn’t unclench his jaw, and he felt like his skin was two sizes too tight.

Jaskier had taken one look at him and opened up his arms, letting Geralt fall into a hug. Geralt had just stood there in the waiting room, arms wrapped around the slightly smaller man, nose buried against his neck, inhaling the faint shampoo and grape soda scent. Jaskier rubbed small, patient circles into Geralt’s back and just let him hang on until his breathing slowed and he could think clearly again.

Like always, Jaskier seemed to know exactly what to do, leading him into the other room and sitting cross legged on the soft rug, a pillow in his lap. Geralt had flopped down on his stomach, hiding his face in the pillow as long fingers combed through his hair, and bitched.

“I wanted to handle it by punching them. They’re both assholes” he muttered.

“Well, as much as I can say that I agree with the sentiment, I’m glad you didn’t.” Jaskier offered, sounding amused. He brushed a lock of hair behind Geralt’s ear so he could see his face.

“You were right.” he continued. “It’s not any of their business. But I’m sorry you had to deal with that. You have nothing to be ashamed of and it’s not wrong to want human contact. To want to be close to someone.”

The tips of Jaskier’s fingers hesitantly brushed against Geralt’s cheekbone, and Geralt took a moment to study the younger man’s face. It was full of warmth, and something undefinable that made his stomach clench. Geralt looked away, and the touch retreated, back to combing through his hair.

“Hm.”

“I agree, let’s not dwell on this topic anymore today.” Jaskier said brightly , twirling a long white lock of hair around one finger. “You know, I’ve always been curious. You don’t really strike me as the trendy hair dye type.”

Geralt snorted, and closed his eyes again, leaning into the touch. “No. That’s mine. I got my first grey hair when I was sixteen. By twenty nine it was this.”

“Well it suits you beautifully. Especially with your hair long.”

“That’s Ciri. She demanded I grow it out so I looked like..whats his face, the beast from the Disney movie”

“Prince Adam.” Jaskier supplied, helpfully.

“Him. Now she likes to braid it, so I’m stuck with it.” 

“She has good taste. And if you don’t take a picture of yourself in braids the next time she comes over, I’ll die and haunt you.” 

“I’m picking her up in the morning, so I’m sure she’ll get her claws in it.” Geralt answered. He didn’t share much about his personal life, beyond the stories and pictures of Roach that Jaskier begged for, but the younger man never pushed, letting Geralt tell just as much or as little as he wanted to. And the more time Geralt spent with Jaskier, the more he found himself giving out those little pieces of himself. It might just be a funny thing that happened at work, or something adorable Ciri had said, or a thought that he hadn’t shared with anyone else.

Somehow, it seemed safe to share those things with Jaskier.

He turned, shifting so that he was fully on his back, staring up once again into the younger man’s face. “Come lay down here with me.” he requested.

“How do you want me?” Jaskier asked softly, carefully sliding out from under Geralt, but keeping the pillow under his head.

“However you want” Geralt answered. “Just as long as you’re beside me for a while.”

Jaskier complied, stretching out to lay on his side against the older man, head pillowed on his arm, one hand resting on his chest.

Later, when the timer signaled the end of their session, Jaskier simply cut it off, and buried his face against Geralt’s neck.


	8. Chapter Eight

Geralt’s plan to avoid his brothers for as long as possible ended abruptly the next morning, when Ciri declared that she wanted her uncles to take her to the zoo. He had tried to reason with her that they could go by themselves, but according to the logic of seven year olds everywhere, zoos were much more fun with uncles as chaperones.

Yen, ever helpful, had said that sounded like a lovely idea, and handed her daughter some money so all four of them could feed the giraffes.

And to be fair, it was a lot easier to keep up with a kid as energetic as Ciri at the zoo when you had two other people to help. Not like he could avoid them forever anyway, seeing as how they made up half of Morhen and Sons Home Repair.

So Geralt had let Ciri facetime her uncles, knowing they were powerless against her adorable little face. He felt a little smug, seeing the dark circles under their eyes. Lambert was still half asleep. According to the work logs, it had been almost midnight by the time they finished up on the site and made it back to the office. 

After a detour for chocolate chip pancakes, with whipped cream and chocolate syrup of course, they all met up at the zoo. Ciri promptly launched herself at her uncles, and between the sugar rush, and her extremely important animal itinerary, it was a few hours before Geralt had to worry about talking to either of them about anything deeper than who was in charge of holding Ciri’s bag.

But eventually Ciri dragged Lambert away to see the monkeys and Eskel and Geralt were left alone on one of the shady benches.

“No.” Geralt said, staring forward.

“I didn’t say anything.” Eskel protested. “But while we’re on the subject-”

“No.”

“Yes. Look. You were right. It’s not our business, and we shouldn’t have made a big deal out of it.” Which was about as close to an apology as he would probably get from either of them. 

Geralt grunted.

“So you actually go to, uh, Jaskier? Have you been going all this time?” Eskel seemed genuinely curious, rather than belittling.

“Once a month usually. Sometimes more.” Six months, plus a few scattered last minute sessions when Geralt could afford it, or couldn’t stand to wait any longer. Maybe nine sessions in all, but he didn’t need to tell him that.

And he didn’t count the couple of times they had gone out for coffee. Jaskier had usually had some issue with his house that he needed advice on, and insisted on repaying him for his expertise with an overpriced americano or a weird local beer. He also didn’t count the time Jaskier had been hungry for Chinese and invited Geralt to stick around after his session. There was a two for one special, and it was just throwing money away not take advantage of it.

“What do you do in there?”

Geralt just stared levelly at Eskel. 

“Okay. So I know what you do, but...why? I mean, it’s worth it, to pay for that? Couldn’t you just meet someone, normally?”

“Remember the last person I met normally?” Geralt reminded him. Yennefer and Geralt were on friendly terms now, but their relationship had been volatile at the best of times. “It’s a lot easier just to pay for it outright. No drinks to buy, no loud clubs to go to. No awkward breakfasts. No strings attached.”

Plus, he thought privately, no one else was Jaskier.

“You’re not actually sleeping with him are you? We didn’t accidentally hire you a prostitute?”

“I’m not sleeping with him.” Geralt said flatly.

“So, it’s just actually cuddling?” Eskel couldn’t seem to wrap his mind around it.

“He’s a professional cuddler, what do you think we’re doing? And it was your idea to sign me up. Why the hell did you even think of that in the first place?”

Geralt had actually been wondering that, since the beginning. It was such a weirdly specific type of gift. There must have been some agenda behind it besides just embarrassing him, or trying to take the sting out of a potentially depressing anniversary by turning it into a joke.

“Lambert wanted to take you to a strip club, but I said you would just punch us if we tried. So we went out looking for ideas and just kind of stumbled on Jaskier. Honestly, I was hoping you’d realize there was more to life than work and the gym and start dating again.”

Well, that was more well-intentioned than Geralt had been expecting, though Eskel needed to lower his expectations. Geralt had never really been one to date. His previous relationships had all been because someone had decided to latch on to him. He just seemed to wake up one day to realize that he had somehow gotten the label ‘boyfriend’. 

“Easier just to pay for the good parts.” 

Eskel snorted. “So practical. Well, at least you seem less cranky today, so Jaskier must be doing something right. It’s good to see you happy” With that his brother apparently decided he had reached his emotional threshold for the day and the conversation was over. He clapped Geralt on the back before going to join Lambert and Ciri, who were currently heckling a bored looking orangutan. 

Geralt stayed on the bench, watching his small family. He was happier.

Jaskier made him happier.

And maybe, Geralt worried, he was getting too attached, reading too much into the arrangement that he and Jaskier had. The recurring credit card charges were proof enough that, despite anything else, it was a business transaction.

Yesterday though had been different. Geralt didn’t know how exactly. The most obvious thing was the fact that a one hour appointment had stretched for four hours. Geralt had put up a token protest, but Jaskier had said that he was comfortable right where he was, had no plans to move for several hours, and that Geralt was welcome to stay.

They had lain on the rug together, both dozing off until eventually the quiet was interrupted by Jaskier’s stomach growling at an increasingly alarming voluming.

Geralt smiled as he remembered Jaskier’s sheepish look, and then his delighted grin when the older man suggested they grab some sandwiches from the coffee shop. Grabbing sandwiches had turned into a pretty heated discussion over animated movies, with Jaskier, as a gigantic disney nerd, debating the pros, and Geralt, as a tired dad who had been forced to watch frozen three hundred times arguing the cons. A discussion that had lasted through several coffees until the shop finally closed and kicked them out.

Honestly, Geralt didn’t know what the hell was going on. He was pretty sure this wasn’t how the professional cuddler/client relationship was supposed to work, but he didn’t really have any framework to build off of. 

But he was happy, so he tried not to question it.

Geralt was pulled from his thoughts by a small body hurtling itself at his face, screaming “dad!” on a loop. Ciri bounced off his chest, and then started tugging at his arm. 

“Dad come on, Uncle Eskel said we can pet the goats. He’ll pay for the brushes. We need to go, now!”

“Well that was very generous of him. Did you say thank you?” Geralt smirked at Eskel over Ciri’s head, and the younger man blushed slightly. It was a badly kept secret that Eskel absolutely adored the petting zoo, especially the goats, and would use spoiling Ciri as an excuse to play with them whenever they came here.

“Yup.” Ciri nodded her head. “Uncle Lambert said we needed to come get you first though, because he saw some little hairy baby goats in there earlier and you’d want to go cuddle them too.”

“He said that hmm?” Geralt asked, levelly, now staring at his youngest brother, who did his best to look innocent.

“Yeah. and then Uncle Eskel stomped on his foot. Because there was a bug crawling on it.”

“A bug?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Uh-huh. Now come on! We gotta go see the goats!”

Geralt just laughed, and let Ciri tug him in the right direction.


	9. Chapter Nine

“Geralt, wait!”

Jaskier was half hanging out of the office door, probably unwilling to step outside in his socks. Their latest session had just ended, and Geralt was still feeling loose and relaxed. He had thought Jaskier felt the same, but as he turned around, something seemed off.

“Can I...do you have a minute to talk?” Jaskier asked hesitantly, which was Geralt’s first clue that something was wrong. Jaskier was the least hesitant person he had ever met. He rushed in head first to everything. The second clue was that he was fidgeting, fingers rubbing against the door frame in a nervous tick.

“What’s wrong?” Geralt asked. He tried not to jump to any of the three hundred, mostly terrible, conclusions that he could think off off hand.

“Oh! No, nothings wrong.” Jaskier’s anxiety seemed to ratchet up a notch, and Geralt made a skeptical noise in the back of his throat.

“I just..So I had an idea. But, I don’t really want to talk about it in the office. Do you have a minute?” Before Geralt could answer Jaskier had ducked back into the office, and the older man had to reach out quickly to catch the door before it could close, he watched with amusement as Jaskier started looking around, peering under chairs, and behind potted plants.

“Yeah. I have time.” Geralt answered “Your shoes are in there, by the couch.” 

“Oh, thanks. One sec” Jaskier disappeared.

He tried not to get nervous himself as he waited. Had he done something wrong? He knew his payment hadn’t bounced. Maybe he was one of those clients that was too needy or too weird. But why wouldn’t Jaskier bring it up during the session? Was he afraid to confront Geralt in private?

He took a steadying breath, realizing how outrageous that sounded in his own head. 

Before his brain could start coming up with new scenarios, Jaskier blew back into the waiting room, and squeezed past Geralt to tumble out onto the sidewalk. Without thinking he reached out, steadying the younger man, and raised an eyebrow.

“Oh don’t give me that look.” Jaskier grumbled, tugging on the door to make sure it had locked behind them. He immediately plopped down on the bench that sat outside his office window, and patted the seat next to him. Geralt obediently sat down.

“So. Like I said. Nothing’s wrong. But...well it’s not exactly, strictly, professional, and I don’t want you to feel obligated or anything. I completely understand if you don’t want to. In fact we can pretend like I never even asked-”

Geralt held up a hand to cut off the rambling. “I think,” he said, slowly, “maybe you should actually ask me the question before we pretend like you didn’t.”

And what on earth was the younger man rambling about. What could he possibly be thinking about that made him this nervous?

Jaskier huffed. “Yes. Right. Okay. So, I know that you mentioned that you’re coming up on your slow season now, and you don’t have as many jobs. I’ve also kind of noticed that you’re scheduling more sessions with me lately, and longer sessions, which I absolutely appreciate and enjoy, but honestly, I mean, I’m kind of expensive. The thing is, my house needs a lot of work. Especially with winter coming up, I know you’ve been bitching about people not winterizing their houses properly, and I don’t have a clue where to start with that.”

The younger man’s hands started fidgeting again, thumb rubbing up and down his fingers in quick succession. Geralt wanted to reach out, to take his hand and still the nervous tic, but he didn’t know if he was allowed. They weren’t in a session, and he didn’t know what the rules were. Instead he just waited, listening.

“So. I had this idea. Maybe you could come help me with the house, instead of….paying me for… It sounds terrible saying it out loud. But, I mean I’d like to hire you anyway, even if you don’t want to barter. I just thought we could skip a few steps.”

Huh. Well, that hadn’t been what Geralt was expecting. He couldn’t really say that he objected.   
His budget had been stretched thin lately, and he had been dreading the coming slump, knowing he’d have to cut back on his sessions with Jaskier as jobs dried up, or try to find some extra work. 

Jaskier was right though, it wasn’t exactly a professional arrangement, but it was not like there was some kind of cuddling commission that could take him to task for it. There was also no law saying that Geralt couldn’t use his handyman knowledge to help a friend out.

“I think that could work.” Geralt said, slowly, as he thought it through. “As long as it’s just minor stuff. I’ll have to double check with Vesemir, and officially I wouldn’t be doing it as a contractor.”

“And officially, You would just be swinging by my office to hang out between my actual clients?” Jaskier offered, picking up on Geralt’s hint. 

“Something like that.” He agreed. 

“We’ll need to, uhm, unofficially come up with some guidelines. To make sure everything’s fair. I don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage of you, or making you feel uncomfortable. All the...office stuff would stay in the office. And I won’t bring up home repair stuff on the clock. I still want you to schedule appointments, and you can schedule me in, just like you would anyone else, and I’d pay for any supplies you needed. We could-”

“Jaskier.” Geralt interrupted. 

“What?”

“Breathe.” 

Jaskier huffed again. “Sorry. I’ve actually been thinking about this for a while. But I was afraid it would be crossing a line.”

Which, honestly, it probably was. But there wasn’t exactly a playbook for this sort of thing, and Geralt really couldn’t think of a downside. He’d get to see Jaskier more often, and outside of their sessions.

He enjoyed his sessions with Jaskier. Aside from his weekends with Ciri, they were the best parts of his month. But he had also liked the times they spent outside of the office, getting coffee, or the occasional texts. Jaskier had continued to demand updates on both Roach, and Geralt’s adventures in having his hair done by a seven year old, and shared his own pictures of whatever ridiculous meme had particularly reminded him of Geralt.

So, not having to stretch out his sessions with Jaskier, and helping him with his house, getting to be around him when he wasn’t having to be a professional, when he was just Jaskier, seemed like a pretty good deal, at least from where he was standing.

“I’m free on Sunday. Why don’t I come take a look at the house and we can worry about all the details then?” Geralt offered.

Jaskier beamed.

Did it really matter if it crossed a line?


	10. Chapter Ten

Jaskier was sitting on the porch when Geralt pulled up to the old house, curled up on a large swinging bench, half cocooned in a blanket. 

“You’re late.” The younger man smirked at him. He seemed to be amused by that fact, especially since he usually took great joy in pointing out that Geralt was early every time they met for a session.

“Only because I stopped to get you breakfast.”Geralt replied, holding up a paper bag that was spotted with grease stains.

“Ooh, well that’s handy.” Jaskier dug around at his side for a minute, coming up with a bright blue thermos, and two mugs. “Because I made you coffee. Come sit, and mind the step” 

Geralt had already spotted the step, the old wood completely split down the middle. He added it to the list of things that would need to be taken care of.

“I thought I told you how to fix that.” He said, exchanging an egg and cheese biscuit for a cup of coffee, and carefully settling down on the swing.

“You did”. Jaskier agreed.

“It’s still broken.” Geralt commented.

“Yes. But now I know the theory of how to fix it.”

“Theory’s not going to keep you from breaking your neck.”

“I’ll have my handyman see to it.” Jaskier replied, airily.

“Hmm”

Jaskier just grinned at him, mouth full of breakfast.

Unwrapping his own biscuit, Geralt took a moment to look around at what he could see from the porch. The house was actually in better shape than he had feared, at least from the outside. It was Victorian, like all the other houses on the street, but quite a bit smaller, and better cared for. Jaskier had mentioned that he had bought the house from a couple who had been restoring it. It was freshly painted, and seemed solid enough.

The yard was surprisingly well kept, leaves raked, grass neatly mown, bushes trimmed and flowerbeds covered in pine straw for winter. 

“Looks like your gardener’s been busy” Geralt joked.

“You should see the back garden. He’s done a really great job.” 

Of course Jaskier actually had a gardener. It really shouldn’t have surprised him. He took a sip of the black coffee and wondered if it was another client that he had come to an arrangement with. Somehow that thought soured in the back of his mind.

“I thought I could show you around the place so you can get an idea of what you’re in for. Maybe make a list of what needs to be done first. I also wanted to set up some, I guess, guidelines? I know this is kind of unorthodox, and I don’t want it to get weird. I mean, I don’t want you to feel weird about it.”

Because bartering repair services for cuddling wasn’t weird enough without having to discuss it, Geralt thought ruefully. But, he had learned that Jaskier liked to talk things out. He didn’t hint or assume. Sometimes it was uncomfortable, but Geralt had come to depend on knowing exactly what Jaskier wanted or expected.

“Okay.” He said simply.

“Well, first off. Your dad..er, boss is okay with you doing work on the side, right?”

“Yes. Though like I said, only minor repair work, and I’m not doing it in any official capacity, so it wouldn’t be covered by the company insurance, and I’ll have to use my own tools, or yours.” and Vesemir didn’t need to know about their arrangement. Geralt had helped friends with home repair work before, and they had bought him pizza and beer, so there wasn’t that much difference.

“That sounds fair. Do you mind if I hang around while you work? Do your clients usually avoid you or something? I’m not really well versed on the etiquette here.”

Geralt snorted. “It’s your house.”

“But you’re my guest.”

“I don’t mind having the company.”

“Okay. And I also have no idea how much any of this costs, so I’ll just let you keep a running tally for how much cuddle time I owe you, and if I think you’re short changing yourself, I’ll tack on an extra ten percent. You can just take on whatever project you feel like. I’m sure there’s enough around here to keep you as busy as you want.”

“Anything in particular that needs to be fixed right away?” 

“The step, I guess. And I’d like to get some new locks on the door. The fancy kind with a code. I lose my keys in my bag too much.”

Geralt nodded, exchanging his empty coffee cup for Jaskier’s discarded biscuit wrapper. 

“Why don’t you show me around?”

. . . .

The tour of the old house had been, well, interesting. The house itself wasn’t in terrible shape. Just old. The previous owners had done a pretty good job fixing the place up, but there were a lot of projects only half done. The master bathroom had been completely gutted, with the master bedroom fairing little better. None of the doors were actually on the kitchen cabinets, and almost every room needed at least a little work. He was itching to refinish the wood floors in the study.

From the way Jaskier had been talking about it, he had been expecting some kind of black mold monster to chase him out of the house. Though the issues probably looked a lot more serious to someone who didn’t know how to repair anything.

In the end they had come up with a small handful of priority projects, and Geralt had jotted down a quick shopping list. 

Jaskier had also proudly shown him the rooms that were already fixed up. A guest bedroom, a bathroom, the living room, and one room that was probably originally a large closet, but had been converted into a makeshift recording studio. Jaskier probably could have been an interior designer in a past life. 

He had decorated each of the rooms with antique furniture, and everything felt comfortable and welcoming. It reminded him of the cuddle den in Jaskier’s office, except more lived in, with personal touches scattered throughout. There was an eclectic mix of books lining the built in shelves, musical instruments laying around, and framed photos nearly everywhere.

Jaskier had also excitedly told him about the history of the house, and the weird noises it made at night, proof that it was probably haunted. More likely it was proof of the heating kicking on at night, but Geralt didn’t want to ruin his fun, so he had just nodded and made little humming sounds when he thought he needed to contribute to the conversation.

Eventually they found themselves back in the foyer, lingering by the front door.

“I’ll go ahead and run to the hardware store to pick up what I need right away. I can come back to work this afternoon if that’s alright.” Geralt said. “Where do you keep your tools? It would be easier to just use yours, but I can grab my stuff if you’re missing anything.”

“It’s in the coat closet, but before I get it out you’re going to have to promise not to make the disappointed face.” Jaskier said, twirling one hand to emphasize his point. “I already warned you I’m not a handyman.”

“Even a basic kit should be able to get us started.” Geralt reassured him, then frowned as Jaskier looked up at the ceiling, studying a cobweb intently.

“See! You’re already making the disappointed face.” Jaskier complained, as he pulled a shoebox out of the closet near the door. “In my defense, I’ve really been meaning to get more stuff but I just...haven’t...yet.”

Geralt took the shoebox hesitantly. It was missing it’s lid, and reinforced with duct tape on one corner. Inside was a hammer, a screwdriver, several plastic hooks with sticky tape backs, half a ruler, and what looked like leftover hardware from an ikea shopping trip. There was also a can opener, and a keychain shaped like a musical note. 

“Okay. new plan.” The older man said, dropping the box onto the nearest table. “Grab your coat. We’re going to the hardware store together and I’m going to help you put together a decent tool kit. Then we’re going to come back here and you’re going to help me fix that step.”

Jaskier opened his mouth as if to object, then promptly closed it, and obediently picked up his coat.


	11. Chapter Eleven

The next few months passed uneventfully. Geralt split his weekends between Ciri and Jaskier. The younger man had been right when he said there would be plenty to keep him busy around the old house. Winterizing the place had taken most of the first month, as well as putting in a security system. Jaskier had insisted that it wasn’t really necessary, until Geralt had decided to break into the house one morning, easily climbing up to the second floor and wriggling an old window pane open. Being woken up to a stranger in your bedroom throwing a breakfast burrito at your head was a pretty convincing argument, Jaskier had later admitted as he helped install some motion activated porch lights. 

In exchange, Geralt had a session each week. Sometimes two, if he was able to squeeze another one in. And one always took place on Friday evening.

The Friday sessions in Jaskier’s office had become a ritual at the end of each week, lasting sometimes for hours. A perk of always being the last client of the day, Geralt supposed. He would grab a dvd from the pile at his apartment that he always intended to watch someday, or rent something from the vending machine near the shop, and he made sure to always stop by the coffee shop before meeting up with Jaskier. The routine was settled enough that by the third week, the barista had created a tab for him and their drinks were already waiting for him at the end of the counter when he arrived.

Jaskier would curl up in his lap, singing the praises of whatever sugary abomination he was drinking that week. Occasionally he would make Geralt try a sip.The younger man seemed to be the coffee shop’s guinea pig for their newest holiday flavors. The more terrible the flavor, the more insistent Jaskier was that Geralt try it, cackling whenever he would pull a face.

Even with all the caffeine coursing through his bloodstream, by the time the movie was over, Geralt often had to wake Jaskier up, prodding him out of his loose limbed sprawl on top of the older man and making sure he was alert enough to drive home safely.

It was the first Friday in December, the start of one of Jaskier’s weekends, when Geralt accidentally fell asleep too.

The thing about sleeping on a couch, even a comfortable one, is that once you hit a certain age it never ends well, Geralt thought. This was his first thought as he fumbled to shut off the morning alarm on his phone.

His second thought, much more unnerving, was that he was not sleeping on his own couch. This was quickly followed by a third thought, namely that he was sleeping on someone else’s couch, with someone else on top of him.

He stopped thinking for a few minutes after that.

Just to be sure he checked his phone. It was eight in the morning. The last thing he remembered was sitting on the couch in Jaskier’s office, listening to the younger man snuffle quietly in his sleep and rubbing his back, while watching Frodo and Sam sneak closer to Mount Doom. 

Which also explained the warm weight on his lap, and the fact that he couldn’t feel his legs. Hesitantly he shook Jaskier’s shoulder. Jaskier groaned and snuggled in deeper, burying his face in Geralt’s chest.

Geralt poked him sharply in the ribs.

With a yelp, the younger man woke up, lost his balance, and promptly tumbled off Geralt’s lap.

“Rude” Jaskier muttered, wiping a hand across his face and grimacing. “Ugh. sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Is the movie over?”

Geralt wriggled his toes, trying to get some feeling back in them. Silently he held up his phone so Jaskier could see the time, morbidly impressed by how quickly all color seemed to drain out of his face.

“Oh shit. I’m sorry!” Jaskier fell over dramatically, clutching a pillow to his face. “I should have set an alarm or something. Why the hell didn’t you wake me up earlier?” He smacked Geralt’s leg with the pillow.

“I fell asleep too.” Geralt admitted, hating the way he could feel the tips of his ears burning.

“Well, that makes me feel a little better.” Jaskier said. “I vote we never speak of this again, and you let me pay for breakfast.”

Geralt agreed.

. . . .

After breakfast at the coffee shop, where Geralt resolutely ignored the barista’s knowing smirk, they had decided to head to the home improvement store, with a quick detour to feed Roach. The next project on Jaskier’s home improvement list had been putting the master bathroom back together, but he had been so overwhelmed by the sheer number of decisions that needed to be made that he had enlisted Geralt’s help. 

Actually remodeling a bathroom was a little more than Geralt could get away with, since he was, technically and financially speaking, working under the table, but he could offer advice. Jaskier wasn’t planning on actually installing anything until after Christmas, and had made some vague noises about hiring Morhen and Sons in a more official capacity for that sort of work, but they hadn’t made any firm plans yet.

Geralt had never designed a bathroom, exactly, but it seemed like all he had to do was listen as Jaskier talked things out to himself, and make the occasional humming noise in the right place. It was a trick he had learned from Jaskier himself, whenever Geralt showed up to a session with some problem or other. He would whine and bitch and eventually sort everything out, only realizing hours or days later that Jaskier hadn’t actually contributed to the conversation at all, despite helping him solve it.

The tactic had worked to great effect today. Jaskier had already decided on a color scheme, sink, toilet and flooring, with minimal input from Geralt. The sticking point however, seemed to be the tub. 

“Get in.” Jaskier commanded, pointing to a large free standing claw foot model. 

“Hmm” 

“Of course I’m serious. I need a second opinion”. 

Jaskier had already spent the better part of a half hour wallowing in the tub, trying to imagine exactly how deep the water would be, and if he could comfortably lounge in it. That had sent him down the google search rabbit hole of bath pillows, book trays, and free standing shower curtains. Luckily, no one else looked to be interested in baths today so the sales associate didn’t seemed too concerned with the crazy man camping out in their model tubs. Judging by the price tag, and the fact that the associates got commissions, they’d probably let him strip down naked and fill the tub with blue packing peanuts if it guaranteed a sale.

Geralt sighed and climbed into the tub, drawing his knees up protectively.

“That is not how you take a bath”. Jaskier swatted at his legs until Geralt unfolded. He could just stretch his legs out fully, and the tall back allowed him room to throw his arms up over the side. The tub was probably large enough for two people, as long as they liked each other. It wasn’t bad. Tentatively, he leaned back.

“Well?” Jaskier asked, crouching down near the other end up the tub and resting his arms along the rim.

“The cast iron is going to suck the heat out of your water.” Geralt said, practically. “I’d go for the acrylic version. And you’ll either need a ceiling mounted shower, which is a pain in the ass to install, or a free standing one if you want the antique look. They’ll have to special order that.”

Jaskier seemed to carefully consider his input. “I think the victorian vibe would be nice. Is it comfortable? Relaxing? How do you feel?”

“I feel ridiculous.” 

With a wave of his hand, Jaskier dismissed the complaint. “I’m not spending this much money without taking it for a test drive.”

“Why does it matter how your bathtub makes me feel?”

“Because I trust your opinion. And no offense, but I saw your tub while you were feeding Roach, and I had to go to the bathroom. It’s terrible, even for a cheap apartment tub. No way you have ever had a comfortable bath in that thing. So I figure, a man who has been deprived of a proper soaking for that long, has probably spent many hours dreaming of the perfect bathing experience. So what do you think? Does this live up to the fantasy?”

Geralt stared at Jaskier. 

“What?” Jaskier asked, defensively.

“You are the only person on Earth with that thought process.”

Jaskier made a rude noise.

Geralt actually took a minute to think about it. He had never actually considered his bathtub at all, except for making sure to put in some anti slip stickers and floaty toys when Ciri was younger. It was just a tub, someplace you stood to take a shower and scrub off grime. He guessed it wouldn’t be very comfortable if he ever did decide to take a bath in it, but it was just an apartment tub. No one took baths in apartment tubs.

“It’s nice.” he finally conceded.

The younger man was staring at him fondly.

“Well, I guess that’s high praise coming from you.” Jaskier said, and then promptly climbed into the tub, wriggling until his hips were wedged between Geralt’s feet. His own knees were bent, toes digging into the meat of Geralt’s thighs.

“What are you doing?” the older man hissed.

Jaskier just grinned, cheekily, and laid his head back against the rim of the tub. “I need to make sure it’s comfortable.It does seem roomy.”

From the corner of his eye, Geralt could see a sales associate staring at him.

“I hope you’re not planning to add this to your menu.” he groused.

“All good restaurants have a secret menu if you know what to order.” Jaskier had the fucking audacity to wink at him, and then laughed at the scandalized face Geralt must have been making.

Popping to his feet, Jaskier offered Geralt a hand up. “And it comes in red, which means I’m definitely getting it in red. So we need to rethink the wall color now.”

“Hmm”


	12. Chapter Twelve

Jaskier blocked Geralt’s entrance into the cuddle den, planting a palm on each side of the door frame. 

“We’ve got five minutes before your session starts, which means, technically, at the moment I’m not on the clock and you’re not my client. You are just my friend, who has stopped by to see me.”

Geralt simply raised an eyebrow. He had known Jaskier long enough by now to know when he was being serious, and when he was being playfully dramatic, and this was the latter.

“And as my friend, it’s perfectly kosher of me to tell you I’ve just dealt with the shittiest client ever and I need a hug.”

Oh. They were friends? Geralt wasn’t sure that was the part of the sentence he should be focusing on, but he couldn’t help it. He filed it away to think about later.

“A hug?” He asked.

“Yes. You know, it’s like cuddling, but standing up. You raise your arms, like this.” Jaskier tugged at Geralt’s arms and he obediently lifted them, wordlessly giving the younger man permission to continue.

“Then I put my arms around you like this,” he stepped into the circle of Geralt’s arms, wrapping both arms loosely around his waist. “And now you wrap your arms around me.”

Geralt did as he was told.

“And now we stand here until I don’t want to scream anymore.”

“Hmm.”

“Which will take about four minutes.” Jaskier answered, translating and answering the older man like always. “I swear to God, I thought he was going to invite me to join his weird sex cult. He spent the entire time talking about how our energies were touching.”

“That sounds uncomfortable”

“It was. And he kept rubbing my arm. I ended up having to kick him out and refund half his money just to get him to leave, and then he hung out in front of the door so I couldn’t even go get a coffee.”

Geralt didn’t like the sound of that. Jaskier didn’t often talk about his clients, and usually only in the vaguest of terms. Occasionally he would discuss some of his past adventures with particularly memorable sessions, but he never outright complained about them.

“Do you think he’ll cause trouble?” he asked, already trying to figure out what he could do to keep Jaskier safe if the man came back.

“No. He was just really weird. And I made it clear that I had all of his information in my database.” 

“Hmm”

“Stop worrying. Who’s the professional here? I’m not concerned about him, I just needed to bitch, get a hug and get it out of my system.”

Well if that’s what Jaskier needed, it was easy enough to provide. He tightened his arms a little, and let the smaller man lean into the hug for as long as he needed. After a minute or two Jaskier pulled away and took a deep breath.

“Thanks,” he said. “I needed that.” With a shake of his arms, and a roll of his neck, Jaskier seemed to change, ever so subtly. It was easy to miss, but Geralt knew what to look for. Jaskier had mentioned once that, at heart, he was a performer, whether it was playing music, singing, his odd white noise videos, or the role he played as a professional cuddler.

When they had first met, when it had been just cuddling sessions, Jaskier had been playing a role of sorts. He was Jaskier, but not quite. Less outspoken, more obliging. But then had come the coffees, and the texts, the weekends spent fixing up the house together, when Geralt got to see the real Jaskier. The Jaskier who didn’t really think before saying something, was quicker to disagree or challenge Geralt when they argued. A Jaskier who could ask for hugs. 

But in the cuddle den, and, god, Geralt still hated that phrase, when they were in a session, Jaskier still maintained some sense of that professional role. He’d stop himself halfway through a story that was probably inappropriate to be sharing with a client, or apologize if he caught himself switching positions on Geralt without getting confirmation beforehand.

It was confusing. And apparently those rules didn’t apply to the weekly sessions, when Geralt brought movies and coffee. Just the other, non-movie sessions.

“Right this way Mr.Morhen” Jaskier sketched a quick flourish in the air, inviting Geralt into the other room. “Water? Beer? How did you want to start today?” 

“Beer.” Geralt made himself comfortable on the couch, and put a pillow on his lap. Usually, Jaskier chose the positions, unless Geralt was in the mood for something particular, but apparently today, it would be up to him. Sometimes it happened because Jaskier had a long day full of clients, or was tired. 

The younger man had told him once, sometimes it was just easier to let other people make decisions. Geralt knew the feeling. When they had first started out everything had been so overwhelming that he had had to rely on Jaskier to tell him what to do in almost every session. He didn’t mind returning the favor now.

“Come lay down with your head in my lap.” 

Jaskier put their drinks down on the side table, and got comfortable, curled up on his side, with a blanket draped over his legs. Geralt’s hand immediately went towards the wavy chestnut locks, but he paused. 

“Is it okay, If I have my hand in your hair?”He asked. Jaskier usually liked being petted, and Geralt found it soothing, but it might be different today.

Jaskier smiled, keeping his eyes closed. “Please.”

With permission granted, Geralt began to run his fingers through Jaskier’s hair, scratching lightly at the scalp until he felt the slighter man relax against him. What else could he do to help Jaskier relax?

“I could talk about my day.” he offered.

“That would be nice.” 

Geralt settled it, taking a sip of beer. “Well it started at six am with Eskel calling me because there was a spider in the office toilet, and he expected me to get up, go into work and kill it for him.”


	13. Chapter Thirteen

“You have Ciri next weekend right? Do you have anything planned?” Jaskier asked, as he softly strummed his lute. They were sitting on the younger man’s porch, Geralt in the swing, and Jaskier on the floor, with his back against the wall. Today’s project, installing shelves in the linen closet, had gone fairly quickly, mostly because the space had been too small to fit both men. Somehow any project that Jaskier helped with took twice as long as it should have. Luckily, the rest of the bathroom planning had gone pretty quickly, leaving Jaskier with plenty of inspiration, and a better idea of what he wanted.

“Yes, and No.” Geralt answered. “I was thinking about taking her to see a movie.”

“Not going to the Christmas Crawl?”

The Christmas Crawl was a downtown tradition that Geralt had somehow managed to avoid knowing about until he met Jaskier. Most of the shops participated, with cookies or treats to lure unwary shoppers into the over priced shops. Evidently it was a pretty big deal.

“Hadn’t thought about it. Doesn’t really seem like something a little kid would like.” 

“Usually I would agree with you, but this year is different. I’ve heard Santa will be in attendance at the coffee shop, ready to hear from all the good boys and girls.”

“Yennefer doesn’t approve of Santa.” Geralt rolled his eyes. “She says it just teaches Ciri that parents are liars and commercialism is turning everyone into robots.”

“Oh boo.” Jaskier said, blowing a raspberry and playing a discordant note. “Well, one of Santa’s helpers will also be in attendance to provide some musical accompaniment. I have it on quite good authority that he does an absolutely rousing rendition of ‘Jingle Bells, Batman Smells’. Fit for the most discerning seven year old.” 

“Hmm.”

“Oh don’t be so skeptical. You should know, I make an adorable elf. I even do the ears and sparkly makeup.”

Which, to be fair, Geralt thought, did sound pretty adorable. 

“I didn’t know you performed in public, thought you just did recordings now.”

“Haven’t had the time. I miss it though. There’s something really special about playing for an audience, especially when you’re not worrying if they’ll tip enough to pay your bills. Plus, I’ve gotten enough free coffee there that I would have felt bad about not helping out.”

“You buy enough coffee there to keep them in business yourself.” Geralt countered.

“Well, that’s true. Anyway, I thought you and Ciri might enjoy it.” 

With that, Jaskier returned to playing his lute, softly humming along to some carol that sounded familiar, but that Geralt couldn’t name. 

The Christmas Crawl sounded like a pretty good idea after all. He could take Ciri to the movies anytime.

. . . .

Stepping out of the biting cold and into the warm coffee shop felt like stepping into a Christmas movie. The air smelled like gingerbread and sugar cookies, and garland was strung above every table and from every fixture.

Geralt wrestled with his own jacket before unearthing Ciri from her overstuffed pink parka, and unwinding the scarf from around her face. 

They had arrived early. Santa wouldn’t be in until noon, and Jaskier had probably only started a few minutes ago. Ciri had no interest in seeing, in her words, “the fraud in the suit”, so hopefully they could get a chance to see Jaskier before the crowds arrived. There was already a small crowd of tired looking parents sipping their lattes. The children though were crowded around a small stage, enthralled by the performer.

Geralt froze.

Logically, he knew Jaskier would be performing, but he hadn’t actually been prepared for the reality of it. He hadn’t been warned that Jaskier wasn’t just wearing some elf ears and playing some songs on one of his instruments.

He shouldn’t have been surprised though. The younger man didn’t really do anything simply.

The small stage had been transformed into a cozy looking set, with a large wide chair and a low fake fireplace, complete with tinsel and stockings. Perfect for taking pictures with Santa. Above the fireplace, a few feet off the ground was a wide shelf, with decorations and an oversized plate of milk and cookies. And an elf. 

Not any elf. The elf. The elf on the shelf, with his little red suit and little white collar. His pointy ears and glittery makeup. Playing silly kid songs on a ukulele.

Jaskier was right, Geralt thought. He really did make a fucking adorable elf.

As if hearing Geralt’s inner monologue, Jaskier glanced up from his audience. He spared the older man a wink and nodded his head towards the end of the coffee bar, at the same time the barista called out Ciri’s and Garalt’s names.

“Special delivery from the Elf.” The woman in the apron said, with a conspiratorial grin when they had made their way over to her. “Your usual, Mr. Large Coffee, Black. And for the little snow princess, a peppermint hot chocolate, with extra whipped cream.”

Ciri stared up at her dad with wide eyes and he smiled down at her. “What do we say?” he prompted.

“The elf on the shelf is propaganda to normalize spying on citizens and the erosion of our right to privacy. And he isn’t real” Ciri parroted dutifully, eyeing the drink. The barista covered her mouth to hide a smile.

“That’s her mother.” Geralt muttered, hurriedly stuffing a five dollar bill in the tip jar. “We say thank you.” He reminded his daughter.

“Oh. thank you.” Ciri chirped happily, carefully taking her cocoa and sucking the whipped cream into her mouth.

Geralt grabbed his own drink and led her to a table near the stage. 

“Do you want to sit with the other kids?” He asked.

“No. How did the elf know our names and what we wanted to drink?” Ciri questioned, climbing up to sit in her dad’s lap.

Mindful of Yennefer’s very forceful opinions on the subject, Geralt decided to answer honestly. 

“He’s not an elf. He’s just a friend of mine that likes to dress up and play music. I told him we might be coming by to see him today.”

“Oh. that makes sense.” she proclaimed. “He’s pretty good.”

He was. Geralt knew that he was a good singer, and could play several instruments. But he hadn’t seen him perform yet. Jaskier was a natural. Every child looked awe struck, and even the parents were smiling and paying attention.

Geralt and Ciri watched Jaskier from their table while they enjoyed their drinks. After a few more songs, he finished up by reading a Christmas story, complete with silly voices and overly dramatic facial expressions. Several parents asked for pictures of him with their kids and he happily obliged, lifting them one by one to sit up on the shelf with him. Geralt suspected that Santa was going to have a tough act to follow.

Once the crowd had thinned out a little, Jaskier made his way over to them, a large smile on his face. 

“Well?” He asked, holding out his arms and doing a quick twirl.

“You look ridiculous.” Geralt said, blandly.

Jaskier stuck out his tongue and then dropped into the chair across from them.

“And what did you think of my performance, princess?”

Ciri seemed to think over the question for a minute. “You sing really well.” She finally declared.

“Ahh. Truly a lady of sophistication and refinement. See, Geralt. That’s how you provide feedback.”

“You sound ridiculous too”. Geralt added.

“Oh! Just wait until Santa hears about this! Insulting his favorite elf, and saying terrible untrue things. I’ll make sure you get on the naughty list.”

In his lap, Ciri was giggling at Jaskier’s antics. Geralt just shook his head.

“And rude.” Jaskier continued, “You haven’t even properly introduced me to your lovely companion.”

“I was waiting for you to stop fishing for compliments.”

“Just one more then. Come on, one teensy tiny little compliment for your handsome and talented elf”

“You’re very sparkly.” Geralt conceded. “Jaskier, this is Ciri. Ciri, this is Jaskier. He’s my...friend.”

He didn’t miss the way the younger man’s eyebrow quirked up.

“What’s your real name?” Ciri asked, bluntly.

“Er, Jaskier?” he didn’t sound sure.

“Oh. I thought that was your elf name. It sounds made up.”

“It’s Polish.”

“Are you Polish?”

“No.”

That seemed to satisfy the young girl.

“So,” Jaskier continued brightly. “Are you staying to get your picture taken with Santa? I have another set in a few minutes, and then the big guy himself will be here.”

“I don’t think so.” Geralt cut in quickly, before Ciri could start lecturing Jaskier on the fact that Santa wasn’t real. He had talked with her about the importance of letting other kids believe in the magic of the holiday, but she didn’t consider adults worthy of that same protection. “We promised to meet her uncles for lunch. We’ll need to leave soon.”

“Ahh. Well would you like a picture with your favorite Christmas elf before you go?”

Ciri looked up at Geralt. 

“You can climb up on the mantle.” Jaskier offered, which seemed to seal the deal.

Before he quite knew what was happening, Geralt found himself being dragged behind an excited seven year old, who seemed to be racing an equally excited elf to the fake fireplace.

Jaskier won and hopped easily from the chair up onto the mantle. 

“Gimme” He said to Geralt, making grabby hands. 

Geralt carefully lifted Ciri, holding on to his daughter until he could see that Jaskier had a secure grip on her. He started to back up, digging into his phone from his pocket.

“Oh no you don’t” Jaskier muttered, grabbing on to his shoulder and spinning him around. The barista from earlier was holding up her own phone, clearly prepared to play photographer.

“Smile!” She commanded, and on pure instinct Geralt did so.

There were a few bright flashes, and then a flurry of hushed whispers behind his head.

“One more!” Jaskier shouted. Ciri giggled and before he could do much more than have a bad feeling there was another flash.

By the time he turned around Jaskier and Ciri were wearing twin expressions of angelic innocence.

Geralt eyed them suspiciously.

“I think this belongs to you.” Jaskier said, carefully handing Ciri down. “And this,” he continued, appearing to pull a piece of peppermint candy from behind Ciri’s ear and handing it to her. “Belongs to you. It was nice to meet you Ciri.”

“I liked meeting you too.” She said, unwrapping the candy and popping it into her mouth before her dad could object. Geralt just smiled fondly and sat her on the ground.

Jaskier held out his arms expectantly.

“You got up there by yourself.” Geralt groused, but easily lifted Jaskier off the shelf, setting him down on his feet.

“I’m scared of heights” Jaskier replied impishly, walking with them back to the table to grab their coats. “I’ll make sure you get copies of the photos. Thank you for coming to see me perform.”

“Thanks for telling us about it. It was...fun.” Geralt hoped he didn’t sound awkward. Judging by the bright smile on Jaskier’s face, he must have succeeded. He suddenly wished they could stay longer, but Ciri already had on her coat and scarf and was tugging at her dad’s arm, ready to be off on her next adventure.

“Go on then, before she rips your arm off.” Jaskier shooed them away. “I’ll tell you all about my amazing performance on Thursday.”

“I look forward to it,” Geralt said, not surprised to realize by now that he meant it.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Lambert and Eskel had lasted approximately three seconds longer than Geralt assumed they would.

As soon as Ciri had demanded Geralt show them the pictures they had taken that morning with “Dad’s elf friend”, he knew he was screwed.The pictures themselves were innocent enough. One had the three of them all facing the camera, smiling nicely, while the other had Jaskier and Ciri pulling ridiculous faces behind his back, while he was staring stone-faced, straight ahead. It looked like a fairly standard holiday meet and greet. Except for the fact that the elf was a professional cuddler that Geralt had been seeing for the past nine months.

Jaskier had also sent a short video that had obviously been shot by the barista, featuring him singing a ridiculous version of the twelves days of Christmas, but framed in such a way that both Geralt and Ciri were visible at their table in the background.

He hadn’t exactly been keeping it a secret that he was seeing Jaskier occasionally, but it wasn’t something he wanted to talk about with his brothers.

Unfortunately, the universe, or his brothers, seemed to be conspiring against him. Ciri had sung Jaskier’s praises during lunch. She seemed particularly enamoured with his ability to conjure up peppermint candies and hot chocolate. A swift kick under the table had kept Lambert from asking too many follow up questions, but couldn’t stop Eskel from suggesting they all go back to the apartment to binge watch Christmas movies and order pizza for dinner. 

The entirety of the day had been spent avoiding the meaningful glances that Eskel and Lambert both kept shooting at him, and the attempts to corner Geralt and separate him from Ciri.

But eventually Ciri began to nod off, and Geralt had no choice but to put her to bed. He took his time tucking her in, wondering exactly how long he could hide out in the room with her before they came looking for him. Once he finally decided to face the music and return to the living room Lambert was practically vibrating in his seat.

Eskel was smart enough to at least hand him a beer first.

“It still isn’t any of your business.” He muttered, though he knew it wouldn’t do any good.

“I can’t believe you’re still seeing him.” Lambert said. “Are you actually still seeing him? Are you dating him? How long have you been sleeping with him?”

“I am not dating him.” Geralt said firmly. “He asked me to come see him perform at the coffee shop this morning and I thought Ciri would like it.”

“So you’re not dating him, but you’re in contact with him?” Eskel asked.

“I’ve been fixing up his house on the weekends I don’t have Ciri. He hired me to do some repairs.”

“Bullshit.” Lambert replied. “Vesemir doesn’t let us work off book for anyone. And I would have noticed if your cuddle buddy was on our client list.”

Geralt pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“He’s not paying me. Exactly.”

“Oh my god, you are sleeping with him!”

Eskel reached out and punched Lambert in the arm on Geralt’s behalf.

“Keep your voice down, asshole.” Geralt hissed. “And I’m not sleeping with him. Look, I work on his house when I don’t have Ciri, and he, he gives me free sessions.” He finished with a mumble, glancing away.

His brother simply stared for a moment, obviously processing what they had heard.

“That’s fucked up.” Lambert finally decided.

Eskel didn’t seem to disagree, but he was a little more tactful. “That’s kind of an unusual arrangement.”

Geralt just shrugged.

“How long has that been going on?” Eskel continued.

“About three months.”

“And you’re at his house every other weekend. Plus however many sessions that pays for. You must be spending a lot of time with him.”

“Why do you care?” Geralt growled, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Did you see yourself in that video?” Lambert butted in. “You spent the entire song making great big sad cow eyes at him. You haven’t looked at anyone like that since..well,”

“Since Yennefer” Eskel finished.

Geralt immediately wanted to argue, but he stopped. He squinted at his brothers, but didn’t see any hint on their face that they were making fun of him. They seemed oddly earnest about the whole thing. 

Digging in his pocket, he pulled out his phone, and brought up the video. Instead of watching Jaskier he focused on his own tiny face on the screen.

“Shit.” He muttered.

They were right.

He might have fallen for his professional cuddler. 

“Oh, you moron.” Lambert groaned, reading the panicked expression on Geralt’s face and interpreting it correctly.

“Believe it or not, he probably has bigger problems.” Eskel was fiddling with his phone. While you two went to pick up pizza, Ciri FaceTimed Yennefer and told her all about her day. All about it. She’s already texted me asking about the new friend that Geralt was introducing Ciri too. The air quotes around friend were implied, but I told her I didn’t know anything.”

Yennefer was a little overprotective. In the sense that she had hired a private detective to follow Ciri’s first nanny to the park for a solid month before deciding he probably wasn’t a kidnapper. If she thought Geralt had a boyfriend, she was probably already running background checks and credit reports. And she had almost certainly found out his actual profession. 

“Shit.”

. . . . 

Geralt lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. He had managed to kick his brothers out of the apartment soon after their conversation without too much fuss. They seemed to understand that he, very suddenly, had a lot on his mind. Though he had to tell them a lot more about the situation than he really wanted to. Including the weekly movie sessions, which Lambert kept referring to as dates.

He had spent the last two hours staring at the ceiling of his bedroom, trying to figure out exactly when everything had gotten so complicated. Because, without realizing it, he had developed feelings for Jaskier.

The problem was, he couldn’t really pinpoint when his feelings for Jaskier had changed. Or exactly what those feelings were. It didn’t really help that Geralt hadn’t had a lot of experience with relationships of any sort. He didn’t really make friends, and had only dated a handful of times. And he and Jaskier had never actually discussed what was happening between them, though in retrospect they had crossed over the professionalism line a hell of a long time ago. 

With a groan he rolled over and buried his face in a pillow, starting over again from the top.

How did he feel about Jaskier? He liked him. A lot. He enjoyed being around him, and wanted to be around him as much as possible. He liked doing things for him, talking with him.

He liked the way Jaskier’s eyes seemed to light up whenever he looked at Geralt. He really liked the cuddles, but even more the little touches that Jaskier couldn’t seem to help giving him when he was off the clock, bumping his shoulder, or touching his back to let him know he was walking behind him. 

And Jaskier was handsome. Geralt could appreciate that, even if he didn’t want to act on it. That wasn’t an issue unique to Jaskier though. He had never really been sexually attracted to anyone, not even Yennefer, though it didn’t mean that he loved her any less. It had never really bothered him, but this whole situation would be a lot easier to figure out if he could just blame it on the hormones. Jaskier hadn’t seemed to be interested in him in that way, aside from the casual flirtiness that seemed to be his default mode when he wasn’t being a professional. 

Did he love Jaskier? Maybe. Probably.

Okay. So, if he in fact had fallen in love with Jaskier, and he still wasn’t convinced, when did that happen?

Today? Geralt had to admit, seeing him in his element, performing, had been pretty amazing. And the way he had treated Ciri, had actually talked to her and made her laugh. He could feel the dopey smile on his face now, almost a day later, just thinking about it.

But it hadn’t started this morning. The night he had accidently spent with him? They had both been asleep, so he didn’t think that counted.

Could it have been when Geralt had started helping Jaskier fix up his house? They had spent the better part of three months working together. Jaskier was a quick study, and seemed genuinely interested in letting Geralt teach him how to do basic things. And lately they had fallen into a routine, with Geralt bringing breakfast and Jaskier cooking dinner on the weekends they spent together. They’d spend the meals talking, or watching whatever strange documentary Jaskier had stumbled on.

There were all the coffee not-dates before that though. 

And the cuddling sessions. 

But that was the problem wasn’t it? Because no matter what else was going on, it always led back to the fact that Geralt was paying Jaskier for his attention, either with cash or with his handyman skills. Somewhere the line between professional and personal had been not only blurred, not even crossed, but completely wiped out. But Geralt was paying Jaskier. Even going over to his house, fixing it up, was payment for their...well maybe Lambert hadn’t been wrong calling them dates.

And except for the occasional hug, or a brief touch, they never really cuddled outside of sessions. Jaskier always seemed to be careful not to sit too close, or let his hand linger on Geralt’s shoulder unless they were in his office.

So the question wasn’t did he like Jaskier, but did Jaskier like him? Was he a friend? A client? Did Jaskier want something more? If Geralt were to call him up tomorrow and say that he didn’t want to schedule any more sessions, would he still be welcome at his house, or asked over for coffee? 

The whole thing was giving him a headache.

Why did it have to be so complicated?

Beside Geralt’s head, his phone dinged, alerting him to a new text message. It was probably Yen. She had been texting him off and on for an hour now, but he had been ignoring it. He knew better than to think that would have any effect though. With a sigh he rolled over, and dialed her number, pressing the button to bring up a video call.

“It’s two o’clock.” He mumbled, not bothering to raise his head off the pillow.

“Good morning to you too.” Yennefer looked stunning, as always. It looked like she was still dressed, sitting in her home office. “Do you want to tell me why you introduced our daughter to a prostitute?”

Thank God for Eskel’s warning.

“Jaskier is not a prostitute. He’s a professional cuddler. And he was volunteering at a kid’s show yesterday.”

“A professional cuddler. Why are you hanging around professional cuddlers?”

Geralt knew that telling her it wasn’t any of her business wouldn’t go over well. And it wasn’t exactly true. When he had involved Ciri in this mess it had become her business. But he didn’t have to give Yennefer the whole story.

“My brothers signed me up for a session as a joke, and I’ve been fixing up his house while things are slow at work. He mentioned that he would be performing, and I thought Ciri would like to go. You’ll be happy to know that she wasn’t interested in staying to see Santa.”

“Good.” Yennefer smirked. “She said there were pictures?”

“Yeah. Hold on.” Geralt swiped to the right app, and forwarded the photos. After a brief hesitation, he also sent along the video. With any luck, she would get that ridiculous song stuck in her head too.

“Okay. That is cute.” Yennefer admitted, once the photos had come through. Geralt tried to ignore the tinny sound of Jaskier singing as the video was played on the other end of the line.

“Please tell me he’s not always that annoying.”

“Only most of the time.” Honestly, Geralt thought, it kind of grew on you after a while. And it rarely carried over into sessions, when Jaskier was trying to be professional.

“Christ.” Yennefer muttered. “He’s really chipper isn’t he? Look, It’s not any of my business who you date, but if he’s going to be hanging around Ciri, I want to meet him. And we need to talk about how you plan to handle it when she asks what he does for a living.”

“We’re not dating.”

Yennefer pursed her lips. 

“We aren’t. It’s….complicated.”

“How complicated?” She asked bluntly.

Geralt sighed. On the one hand, none of her business. On the other hand, Yennefer always did have a way with cutting through the bullshit, and getting right at the heart of the matter. Maybe getting her view on the whole mess could be helpful.

“I started seeing him professionally about nine months ago. Just a session every few weeks. Then, about three months ago we made a deal. I’d fix up his house for free sessions. We started hanging out, getting to know each other. I think we’re friends. But...I think I like him.”

“Judging by the way you’re staring at him in the video, it looks like it’s more than that. You realize it’s wildly unethical for any sort of professional to become...friends with their client right?”

“Hmm”

“And having a client come to your house is just...He’s not taking advantage of you is he?”

“No.” Geralt said firmly.

Yennefer didn’t look convinced.

“I think I need to talk with him.” Geralt said, coming to the realization just as he voiced it. He groaned and buried his face in the pillow again.

Yennefer sighed. “You never do anything easy do you? Plan on staying for dinner when you bring Ciri back.” She said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Once she’s in bed, We’ll break into the liquor cabinet. Get spectacularly drunk, and come up with a plan.”


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Geralt wiped the palm of his hands against his jeans for what felt like the fifth time in as many minutes, fighting the urge to jump off the bench and start pacing.

It was his own fault for showing up early. 

To be honest he wasn’t sure if he was feeling queasy because he was nervous, or still feeling the after effects of his late night drinking session with Yen. Or maybe because he hadn’t been able to eat lunch, dreading the meeting with Jaskier tonight.

It had been Yen’s idea, and in the end she had been the one sober enough to actually type out the text, though she faithfully sent exactly what he dictated. He needed to face this head on, get everything out in the open. Which meant scheduling a session with Jaskier. Because it wouldn’t have been fair to just open with a “we need to talk” text to him. Geralt had been on the receiving end of those enough times to know how nerve wracking they could be.

And of course Jaskier had responded immediately, with his smiley face emoticons, offering to stay open late the very next day.

Now, he just needed to go in and lay it all out. He had rehearsed what he wanted to say, and won several imaginary arguments in the shower. They were going to sit down and have a calm, rational discussions about what was going on, where their relationship was going, assuming there was a relationship, or the potential for one at all. And everything would work itself out.

“Geralt?” 

Geralt jumped, blinking up in surprise at Jaskier. He had been so lost in thought that he hadn’t even noticed the younger man coming out of the office. 

“Uh. Hi.” he said weakly.

“Hello.” Jaskier’s face was scrunched up in concern. “Why don’t we go inside?”

Geralt nodded, and followed him into the waiting room, but hesitated. This wasn’t really a conversation he wanted to have sitting on the couch, with Jaskier beside him, or cuddled up to him.

“Can we talk out here?” He dropped into one of the chairs.

“Of course.” Jaskier carefully chose a seat across from him. “What’s going on Geralt? Are you okay?”

“We can’t do this anymore.” Geralt blurted out. “I can’t- It’s too confusing and I don’t know what we’re doing. Or what we are. We shouldn’t have...” he trailed off, frustrated that he wasn’t making any sense. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from blabbering any more.

Across from him, the younger man began to reach out, but seemed to think better of it.

“Okay. Geralt, you need to calm down and breathe. Take it slow.”

Geralt gulped in a breath.

“That’s good. Alright, let’s take one thing at a time. What can’t we do any more?”

“This.” he waved his arm around to encompass the room. “The sessions. The dinners. The repair work. The coffees. Everything, All of it.” Which wasn’t what he meant to say at all.

Jaskier seemed to go pale, and he took a few deep breaths of his own.

“Why do you think that?” He asked slowly, infuriatingly calm.

“Because it’s all messed up now. It used to be okay, because I was paying for it. And you were a professional, but now everything’s just...just… I don’t know what we are anymore. I have a key to your house. I let you meet my daughter. But I still have to schedule fucking sessions just to touch you, and when we’re in a session you pretend like I’m just some client, like now, except for when you fall asleep on me. I don’t know what the hell is going on, or if you even like me, or if I love you.”

Shit. he hasn’t meant to say half of that out loud. Especially not the last part.

“Can I touch you now?” Jaskier asked softly, and Geralt couldn’t tell which Jaskier he was talking to.

“No.” Geralt snapped. “Just tell me what the fuck we’re doing. Why we stopped being professional” Maybe if Jaskier could explain it, could tell him when things had changed, it would all make sense.

“I’m sorry. This is my fault. I crossed a line. And I shouldn’t have done that. Or I at least should have talked with you about it.” The younger man wrapped his arms around himself, his long fingers tapping out a nervous rhythm against his side.

“I’m not supposed to like my clients.” He continued. “But I like you, and I just wanted to be around you, get to know you. I wanted you to be my...friend.” Jaskier looked up at him with watery blue eyes, looking painfully earnest.

“I was stupid and unprofessional.” he continued, “and I...betrayed your trust.” Now Jaskier seemed to be the one who couldn’t control his mouth. “The more I got to know you, the harder it was for me not to want to be near you. It was nice to have someone who saw me as a person, and not just a glorified body pillow, and I thought I was good for you too. I’m sorry.” 

Geralt deflated. 

They both sat in silence for a moment. Jaskier seemed unwilling to take the lead as he usually did.

“It’s over.” Geralt finally said, pulling his keyring from his pocket and removing the key that Jaskier had given him. “All of it.” He couldn’t deal with it anymore. Everything had been so much easier before. Lonelier. Sadder. But easier. He felt like he wanted to crawl out of his skin, he just wanted to get away.

Jaskier’s eyes widened in shock. He was obviously fighting the urge to say something.

“Can we-” He started to speak, but cut himself off, chewing nervously on his lip. In the end he just held out his hand, letting the key drop into it. Geralt didn’t miss the way his fingers trembled. Without a word, the younger man stood up, walking over to his desk. He put the key in a drawer, and searched for something for a few seconds.

When he came back, he was carrying a business card. Being careful not to let their hands brush he handed it to Geralt. 

“This is a friend of mine. She’s a cuddler too. An actual professional. If you need someone, she’s the best. I’ll make arrangements to pay for a couple sessions.” Jaskier trailed off, obviously unsure if he was crossing another line.

“I’m sorry. I should have kept it professional. I fucked everything up.” The younger man said, looking down at the floor.

Geralt stood up and walked out.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

The next week passed in a blur for Geralt. Christmas was just around the corner, and between trying to wrap up projects at work, preparing for the family celebration, closing out the yearly paperwork, and a constant state of denial his mind was kept busy enough that he didn’t have time to dwell on the Jaskier sized hole left in his life.

His phone made sure to alert him to his upcoming session though, and he had been halfway out to Jaskier’s house Saturday morning before he realized that he had turned down the familiar street on autopilot. He had driven to the gym instead, taking his frustration out on the punching bag and treadmill.

But, still, he had managed to avoid his feelings for the most part, until Eskel stuck his nose in. The question had been innocent, His younger brother had simply wanted to know if he and Jaskier had anything planned to celebrate the holiday. Friends got together all the time. People you wanted to date usually merited at least a dinner or a coffee. And even clients would buy little gifts for professionals. Hell, Morhen and Sons Repair got at least three fruit baskets every year from customers, and he had stuck a small box of candy on top of the mailbox just this morning for the postman.

When Geralt had muttered that he wasn’t seeing Jaskier anymore and retreated to his kitchen for a beer, he had hoped Eskel would drop it. Instead Eskel had followed him, looking worried.

“What do you mean you’re not seeing him anymore? You’ve been seeing him for nine months. I think, technically, you’ve been dating for three of them.”

“We were not dating.” Geralt growled. “I couldn’t afford to pay him every week, so I did work at his house. I was his client. And now I’m not his client any more.”

“That doesn’t really sound like what you told us last week. Clients don’t usually go out for coffee after their sessions, or have movie nights and they definitely don’t get Sunday dinners cooked for them”

“I read too much into it.”

“Did Jaskier say that?”

And damn Eskel for being the rational one.

“He apologized for being unprofessional.” Geralt sighed, putting his beer back in the fridge without opening it. “I went to his office Monday, to talk about...everything.” He confessed, wondering when he became the type of guy who talked about his feelings. Sometime after he became the guy who asked for physical affection when he needed it, he guessed. More of Jaskier’s influence. “But I just ended up embarrassing myself and admitting that I had a crush on him. Then I gave him back his house key and ran away.”

“What did he actually say?” Eskel asked, refusing to let go of the subject.

“He said he was sorry. That he made a mistake and had crossed a line because he liked hanging out with me.”

“Because he what?” There was something like a smirk on Eskel’s face.

Geralt glowered.

“Because he liked hanging out with you. And from that you took ‘He was sorry he was unprofessional and I read too much into it’?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“I’m sure it’s not, but I think you’re focusing on the wrong thing here.”

Eskel shoved Geralt out of the way, making himself at home in the kitchen and rummaging through the cabinets for something to eat.

“Like the fact that, since you’re no longer his client, there’s no reason you couldn’t be friends, or god forbid go on an actual date. Did you actually once ever tell him that you wanted to have a less than professional relationship with him?”

“It’s not that easy.” Geralt muttered. “And if you’re looking for the honeybuns, Ciri cleaned them out.”

“Nothing worth having is ever easy.” Eskel said, philosophically. “You just need to figure out what you want to have.”

. . . .

Geralt cursed Eskel several times over the next few days. Mostly because he was right. Ending things with Jaskier had left him missing...something. He wasn’t sure what. Whenever he tried to figure it out, it had all just circled back to the fact that he missed Jaskier.

Was it the sessions? He did miss those. Laying with his head in Jaskier’s lap while the younger man ran his fingers through his hair. Sitting on that comfortable couch, with a warm body pressed up against his side.

But he also missed the coffee. When they would just talk about their days. The latest dumb thing that Lambert had done, or the squirrel drama happening in Jaskier’s backyard. He missed the more serious talks. The ones that happened on the front porch of the old house they were fixing up. 

But it was all so tangled up in Jaskier. 

Was it the warm body he missed, or Jaskier’s touch?

Did it matter who he was talking through his problems with at the end of the day?

Jaskier had told him, at the very beginning, that he was touch starved. Maybe he was just so desperate for any sort of human connection that he had latched on to the first person that offered it.

In the end, he made a list. He had always been methodical. He would just need to go down the list, item by item, and try out everything. See if that was what was missing. Geralt looked at the list again, hidden safely in the notes function of his phone. Even the jargon reminded him of Jaskier.

Physical affection was the obvious one. It was what had started this whole mess, and he already had an obvious starting point there with Jaskier’s business associate. Next was human connections. How the hell he was supposed to get that he had no idea. Take Lambert up on his offer to go to a bar? Maybe it was time to rejoin the dating scene. Therapy. He had fought with himself over including that one, but short of becoming a Catholic and going to confession he didn’t know how else he was supposed to talk about his feelings. 

Jaskier’s name had been at the bottom of the list. He erased it and then retyped it almost every time he opened up the note. Because there was just too much unknown territory there. Did he want to be Jaskier’s client? His friend? Something more than that? What did Jaskier want? Would Jaskier even want to talk to him, and did he want to talk to Jaskier? The younger man hadn’t reached out to him at all.

It seemed safer to focus on the other things on the list first. Process of elimination.

After Christmas of course.

Beside him, Roach purred and chewed on the little koala that Jaskier had given her. 

“Traitor.” He muttered, reaching out to stroke her head. She hissed, but allowed it.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

“Next time, you are coming to the store if you need cranberry sauce so bad.” Geralt complained, holding the cell phone up to his ear, while trying to squeeze his cart through the packed aisles.

“Oh quit bitching.” Lambert replied. “I’m busy making the cake you wanted. And you better get the canned kind. Last year you got actual fucking cranberries and you know Eskel only eats it if it’s shaped like a can.”

Geralt quickly took the bag of fresh cranberries out of his cart and threw it on a shelf.

“Anything else?” To be fair to his youngest brother, he’d much rather be sent on last minute shopping errands than to be in charge of cooking the annual Morhen Christmas dinner. Everyone had a different dessert request, and somehow it had been a tradition to make them all. And on top of that, this year Yennefer had decided she was doing paleo something. Christmas was the only time they all got together, so Lambert had been persuaded to modify a few dishes.

“Ciri says peppermint syrup.”

Ciri had been on a peppermint hot chocolate kick ever since a certain elf had used his Christmas magic to make one appear for her. It had driven Yen mad.

“Don’t curse around Ciri. And, I don’t think you can buy peppermint syrup in grocery stores.” 

“Well, you can explain that to your daughter then. And she’s not in the kitchen. I’m not that stupid, dipshit.”

Geralt just hung up, muttering a few curse words himself as he grabbed the last can of cranberry sauce and tried to turn his cart around, accidentally ramming the wheels into the back of someone’s ankles, causing them to drop their grocery basket.

The yelp of shock was alarmingly familiar. 

Geralt closed his eyes and waited for the ground to open up beneath his feet and swallow him. 

“Sorry,” Jaskier apologized, leaning down to collect his scattered groceries. 

“No. It was my fault.” Geralt caught a wayward bottle of grape soda that was rolling toward freedom. He helped to pick up the last few items, not quite able to avoid noticing what the younger man was buying. A frozen turkey dinner, soda, one slice of pie, and a rather obscene amount of instant coffee and cocoa packets. 

He accidentally brushed his fingers against Jaskier’s as the younger man took the last of his spilled groceries. Geralt realized, as he handed over a slightly damaged looking pie slice, that he was probably looking at Jaskier’s Christmas dinner. 

Unbidden, the ghost of a recent conversation with Jaskier replayed in his mind.

“No plans yet,really.” Jaskier had said, then. “I don’t talk to my family, and my friends all have their own thing going on. I always find someone to take me in at the last minute though.”

Geralt wondered if that had happened this year. From the contents of Jaskier’s basket it didn’t look like it. He had wanted to invite Jaskier to come have dinner with them, but had worried it wouldn’t be professional.

In the present, Jaskier was looking at him, fingers fidgeting nervously on the handle of his basket.

“Coffee shop is closing down for the holiday.” Jaskier explained, laughing weakly. “And I’m terrible at making my own coffee, so I guess I’m stuck with instant.”

“Hmm.” Geralt responded with a noncommittal noise.

“I’ll survive somehow.” Jaskier responded, then hesitated. “How have things been?”

“Busy.” He wanted to tell him about the madhouse that was the Morhen Christmas dinner, or going to see Ciri’s holiday recital, but he wasn’t sure if it was allowed.

“Oh.” Jaskier’s face fell, and he seemed to shrink a little, cutting his eyes away. “Right. Sorry. I won’t keep you.”

Geralt cursed to himself. He never could say the right thing.

“How have you been?” He asked awkwardly, trying to smooth things over.

“Good.” Jaskier said simply, and a little too quickly. He had already turned, angling away from the older man, but he paused, meeting his eyes. “Merry Christmas, Geralt.”

Geralt smiled at him, gently. “Merry Christmas.”

Hesitantly, Jaskier returned the smile, then hurried off, hand raised in a little wave.

Geralt sighed and started to push his cart down the aisle, when the wheel struck something for a second time. He frowned and looked down. Lodged under his cart was a small round tin, an apparent escapee from Jaskier’s basket that they had both missed. He looked around for Jaskier, but the younger man was nowhere to be seen.

Bending over, Geralt retrieved the tin, and shook his head. Peppermint hot chocolate.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

New Years had come and gone uncelebrated. Geralt, frankly, was still exhausted from Christmas, and hadn’t bothered to stay up. He had started to call Jaskier several times over the holiday, and had even driven by the house once or twice, but had never managed to complete the call or knock on the door. Eskel had sent him more than one long pitying look, and even Lambert had managed to make his disapproval known by giving him a very large body pillow during their secret santa gift exchange.

It wouldn’t have been fair to upset Jaskier just because Geralt regretted his moment of cowardice. And Jaskier hadn’t reached out either. Maybe it was best to just leave him alone.

He had also been a little preoccupied with his list of things that he needed to sort out in regards to this current mess. He had reached out to Triss Merigold, Jaskier’s recommendation in the professional cuddling world, and had gotten a reply much sooner than he had expected. 

So he found himself, only a few days into the new year, sitting in what looked like a ritzy spa an hour and a half drive out of town. The receptionist had offered him some wine, which he declined and gave him an embossed leather booklet with drawings of various cuddling positions. The paperwork focused heavily on rules, and less on client preferences, and Geralt wondered if their version, or Jaskier’s version was more typical.

“Mr. Morhen?”

A beautiful looking woman, with bright red hair and a kind smile came up to him, placing a hand lightly on his arm. “My name is Triss. I’m going to be your cuddler today. Why don’t you follow me?”

Geralt did as she asked, letting her lead him past a series of small rooms. Some were open, showing couches or wide cushioned benches. A couple doors were closed. Jaskier had mentioned that he used to work with other people, but he hadn’t imagined it would feel this clinical. 

“You can pick any position you like.” Triss said, after she had led him into her chosen room, dimming the lights, and turning on some soothing music. “Of course you’re aware that your session is already paid for. I do need to let you know that there are security cameras. If you need a break at any time just let me know. We also have bathrooms available.” 

Geralt just blinked at her.

“They make me say that.” She winked at him. “Jaskier told me he had recommended you, so I guess you’re already familiar with how most of this works?”

“Yes.” Geralt answered. He handed her the menu, feeling self conscious. “Can we do this?” He tapped the illustration of a man and woman, spooning. “I like to be….” he hesitated, and then pointed to the woman, who was the little spoon. “In front.”

“Of course. Just lay down here.” She pulled a pillow into place, and waited until Geralt was settled before snuggling up behind him, resting her head between his shoulder blades, and wrapping one arm around his stomach. They lay there silently.

Geralt closed his eyes and tried to relax, tried to stop comparing the warm body against his back to Jaskier, but Triss was lying perfectly still. No humming, no drumming a rhythm against his side with her fingers. She smelled like sandalwood, not coffee, or grape soda.

He lasted about twenty minutes before sitting up.

“Sorry” he muttered.

“It’s okay. Do you want to try something else? Tell me what you like.”

He thought about it. “If I put my head in your lap. Could you run your fingers through my hair?” The part about the hair hadn’t been on the menu specifically, but it was something he liked. Maybe a less personal position would work better.

Triss sat up, dragging the pillow into her lap and patted it. “Come on.” Once Geralt was settled, and she had her fingers running through his silvery locks, Triss spoke up again. “If you were one of Jaskier’s clients, you’re probably used to your sessions being a little more noisy.” She smiled down at him. “If you want to talk here, that’s okay. I’m happy to listen.”

“Do you know him very well? Do you think he’s good at what he does?” Geralt asked.

“We used to work together. And I hear his business is very successful” Triss answered diplomatically.

“He does things a lot differently.”

“He does have a unique style” she agreed.

“Do you think he’s unprofessional?” Geralt asked, bluntly

“That’s really not my place to say. It wouldn’t be professional of me to comment on that.” her fingers never stopped tracing patterns through his hair.

“But, speaking as his friend,” she continued, softly. “He has a good heart, even if it gets him in trouble sometimes. And he doesn’t always think things through.”

Which sounded pretty accurate really. 

“Now tell me a little about yourself.” Triss said, changing the topic. “What are you looking for in a cuddle session?”  
. . . .

Geralt stood beside his truck, just letting the sun soak into his skin for a moment until he felt ready to make the long drive back. The session hadn’t been a failure, exactly. At least he could cross it off his list. Cuddling, in and of itself, couldn’t fix whatever was wrong with him.

Once she had gotten him to start talking he hadn’t been able to stop. He had told her about his first session with Jaskier, before he knew that professional cuddling was a thing. The realization that in the past ten years he had never really touched, or been touched by anyone.

He had tried not to bring Jaskier’s name up too much, or dive too deep into the messy details of what had happened between them. Instead he had focused on how he sought out touches now, and offered them more freely. Hell, he had even initiated hugs at this year’s Christmas dinner.

But Jaskier was so much a part of all of that. He would be halfway through a story before remembering that it had happened when he was over at the younger man’s house, or might imply that he hadn’t been acting professionally.

Triss, for her part, had simply listened, not actually saying anything one way or another, but encouraging him to continue in that infuriating way that was apparently common to all professional cuddlers. 

Once Geralt had talked himself out, she had sat there, combing through his hair, asking if he would like a blanket, or if he needed to move around some. 

It hadn’t been a bad session, but it hadn’t been what he was missing. There hadn’t been any connection. She had been perfectly nice, but it had been impersonal. Even that first session with Jaskier could never have been described as impersonal.

After it had ended, Triss had followed him through the little, spa like reception area and out the door.

“I assume we won’t be seeing you back here?” She had said, not unkindly.

He had mumbled his apologies but she just laughed. 

“It’s okay.” She had reassured him, “Since you aren’t officially my client anymore, I don’t mind telling you that Jaskier spoils his clients for anyone else. He took half our business with him when he moved! There’s something special about him. He always said we got too wrapped up in the logistics and forgot about the people. In fact…”

At that point she had pulled something from behind her back. It was a slim book, bristling with post it notes and scraps of paper.

“I had been meaning to send this back to him, but honestly I forgot about it. He used to give copies to everyone. Maybe you could return it for me, the next time you see him.”

There had been a twinkle in Triss’ eye, and she had shoved the book into his hands before he could protest, disappearing back through the door with a wave and a thank you shouted over her shoulder.

So Geralt leaned against his truck door, and soaked up the sun, turning the little book over in his hands, rifling the edges of the paper with his thumb. “The Art of Cuddling”. 

Well, he could always drop it in the mail he guessed.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

“We’re going drinking.” Geralt declared, turning Lambert around as he walked into the office and marching him to the parking lot before he could lose his nerve.

“The fuck?” Lambert muttered, too stunned to do anything but let himself be manhandled into the cab of Geralt’s truck, hair still damp from the shower he had taken when he first got back to the small garage that Morhen and Sons was based out of.

“I need a drink, and I need to meet someone. And you were the one that said I needed to get back on the horse, so you and I are going drinking.”

It was a flawless plan. 

“That was before I knew you were dating Jaskier.” 

“I was not dating Jaskier”

Lambert snorted. “Okay. So let’s pretend you weren’t dating him. And let’s pretend you didn’t break up with him. And, just for shits and giggles, let’s pretend that you haven’t been moping around making yourself miserable. Why are you looking for someone now?”

“It’s been almost six years since I’ve been divorced. I need to start dating again sometime” Geralt gripped the wheel tightly, staring straight out the windshield. Plus, it was the next thing on his list. Human Connection. And it was either this way, or joining a dating site, and frankly Geralt wasn’t sure he could handle that. Going to a bar seemed faster, and if human connection was what he was missing, then he could look into it. If not, he had only wasted a couple hours.

“Conveniently enough,” Lambert pointed out “I can think of someone if you’re looking for a date. He’s kind of clingy, willing to put up with stupid jackasses, makes a really fucking cute elf.”

Without looking, Geralt reached out, punching Lambert’s arm, hard.

“Fine. But we both know how this is going to end. You’re going to get all weird and awkward the first time anyone comes up to talk to you and I won’t get to have any fun because I’ll be having to keep an eye on your sorry ass.”

“This was your idea.” Geralt muttered

Lambert threw up his hands in disgust, but stayed silent for the rest of the ride.

. . . .

It hadn’t happened exactly how Lambert had predicted, but he wasn’t too far off. Geralt had made sure to nurse his beers slowly, and focused on softening what his youngest brother called his ‘resting bitch face’. 

“The only people you won’t scare off, looking like that, are people you don’t want coming up to you in the first place” Lambert had pointed out sagely, before wandering off to grab more drinks, and flirt with a woman at the bar who had caught his eye.

A few people had already approached him, but had seemed put off for one reason or another. He had even made an effort to speak to them, stumbling over the expected small talk and innuendos. 

It was nearly a relief to be left alone. Waiting for Lambert to finish his drinks, Geralt pulled out the small book that had been riding around in his jacket pocket. The Art of Cuddling. He had been flipping through it for the past day, skipping past the illustrated chapters. He knew the mechanics, but had hoped the book could shed some light on the theory behind it. The author only talked about cuddling as something that happened between people in some sort of relationship. A way to strengthen an emotional connection. Which sure, probably applied to most of the people who needed a book to teach them how to cuddle, but wasn’t particularly helpful in his case. 

He had gone about the whole thing ass backwards. Started the cuddling first, then got attached. There wasn’t anything in here about what to do then. Geralt sighed in frustration and put the book up again.

He was almost ready to write off the entire experiment as a failure, when a leggy brunette slid into the empty chair next to him. 

“Drinking alone?” She asked, reaching out to play with the label on his beer bottle.

“Yes.” He answered simply, glancing at Lambert, who gave him an exaggerated thumbs up. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, worried that the brunette might think it was directed at her.

“How convenient. Look, let me be really blunt. I have an apartment a block away, and I’d really like to take you home and ride you like a pony.”

Geralt could only hope she didn’t mean literally. 

“Shouldn’t I buy you dinner first?” He asked, “or at least know your name?”

She waved her hand dismissively. “I’m not really into old fashioned romance.”

“Hmm” He moved his beer bottle out of her reach carefully, and drained it.

“Well?” the brunette, who had still not offered her name, asked, a little impatiently.

Geralt shrugged and grabbed his coat. “Okay.”

. . . .

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Lambert said, holding Geralt’s hair out of his face as he puked into the toilet for what felt like the twentieth time. Roach sat on the counter, looking judgmental. “And what the fuck did you drink that was that purple?”

Luckily, the brunette’s apartment had actually only been a block away, so it had been easy enough to escape after what had been, frankly, uncomfortable and uninspiring sex. Part of him had thought, maybe if he just pushed himself to act like a normal guy in a bar, things would work out. Apparently not. He had managed to make it back to the bar and was well on his way to blind stumbling drunk by the time Lambert found him. 

Lambert had been a little too tipsy himself, so Eskel had been called to provide taxi service back to Geralt’s apartment. Unfortunately, that meant that Geralt had two younger brothers crowded into the bathroom with him while he heaved out the top third of his digestive tract, acting concerned.

“I don’t know.” Geralt muttered, slumping against the tub, waiting for the room to stop spinning “I thought it would help. If I could just find someone that wanted to be with me. But I was stupid.”

Eskel patted his back and forced a bottle of water into his hand. “You weren’t stupid.” he said. “What you did was stupid, and kind of dangerous. But you weren’t stupid.” 

He hadn’t been able to exactly hide what had happened, not with lipstick smeared all over his mouth, and an extraordinary amount of alcohol destroying any verbal filter he might have had.

Geralt nodded, leaning back over the toilet just in case. He took a cautious sip of water. “And the sex wasn’t even that good. She didn’t want me to buy her dinner first. How am I supposed to know if I want to date someone if I can’t buy them dinner?”

“I don’t think she’s the type of girl you date.” Lambert offered. He grabbed one of Ciri’s ponytail holders from the counter and put Geralt’s hair up so he didn’t have to keep holding it.

“Do you think maybe you’re focusing on wanting to meet new people because you miss being with Jaskier?” Eskel asked.

“I wasn’t with him.” Geralt said, miserably. 

“Well, maybe you weren’t dating him” Eskel continued, ignoring Lambert’s disbelieving snort, “but he’s the first person you’ve been close too in a really long time. And you obviously felt something for him or you wouldn’t be taking..uh, not seeing him anymore, so hard.”

“I really miss him.”

“Have you talked to him?” Eskel had always been the type to try to have a rational conversation with a drunk person.

“I went to another cuddler.’ Geralt answered.

“Oh...Okay. And how did that go?”

“She wasn’t Jaskier.” 

“So, maybe you should be focusing on talking to Jaskier.” Eskel replied patiently.

“No. I’ve got to finish the list first.” The list was important. If he just went down the list he could figure out what he needed to feel okay again.

“What list?” 

“Uh…. Physical Affection. Human Contact….Uhm Catholisicm, no..uh, therapy? Then Jaskier. It wasn’t the first two.”

“Do you have any idea what he’s talking about?” Eskel asked Lambert, instead of trying to get anything sensible out of Geralt. Good call, Geralt thought to himself, trying to stay upright.

“Nope.” Lambert popped the P, grinning.

“I took his hot chocolate at the grocery store.” Geralt confessed. “He didn’t even have any peppermint hot chocolate for Christmas. And now there’s not going to be anyone to help him with his tub.”

“Should we be worried about alcohol poisoning?” Lambert stage whispered to Eskel, but Geralt ignored him.

“He was so worried about whether or not I would be comfortable in his tub, even though I wouldn’t even be the one using it. He was always thinking about everything. And he didn’t get mad when I accidentally slept with him, he just pretended it was okay.” he continued, his verbal filter somewhere in the S trap of the toilet along with a few jello shots.

“Uhm, hold the fuck up. You accidently what?” Lambert used Geralt’s pony tail to pull his head up, staring at him with wide eyes.

Geralt had to repeat the conversation in his head, squinting to focus.”We fell asleep on the couch in his office during a movie. Well, he always does, but I did too, and we didn’t wake up until breakfast. And he paid for it.” he explained, trying to include any details that he thought might be relevant.

“Oh my god Eskel, I fucking can’t with him.” Lambert moaned, letting Geralt’s head drop back into the toilet. Geralt used the opportunity to throw up the small amount of water he got down earlier.

Eskel sighed. “Go crash in Ciri’s bedroom. I’ll drag his sorry ass to bed when he’s done.”

“I usually bought breakfast.” Geralt offered, to no one in particular. “Who’s going to make sure he has breakfast now?”

“I think that might be a question for sober Geralt.” Eskel said. “Come on, let’s try some more water.”


	20. Chapter Twenty

Geralt stumbled into the living room next morning, narrowly avoiding Eskel’s outstretched legs as he collapsed onto the couch. “If I ever mention drinking again, shoot me.”

“I think I’d have to get in line behind Lambert. He’s the one that had to drag you to the truck.”

The older man just grunted, wrestling with his tangled hair.

“So what’s next on your list?” Eskel asked.

“What list?

“Apparently you have a list of how to badly handle a break up.” Lambert said as he waltzed out of the bathroom, mumbling around what Geralt hoped to god was one of the spare toothbrushes in his mouth.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Geralt said. Maybe if he played dumb they would leave him alone.

“How many more steps until talking to Jaskier is an option?” 

“Who?” That was possibly too dumb.

Lambert made a disgusted noise and stomped back off into the bathroom.

Eskel just gave him a disappointed look.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Geralt said. “I’m handling it.”

“You’re handling it spectacularly badly. And I know you don’t like talking. But this isn’t going to get resolved by you just ignoring it. And you’re a pretty shitty friend if you won’t even explain to this guy why you freaked out on him.”

Eskel, unfortunately, took Geralt’s silence as permission to continue.

“Look, I’m not saying this all your fault. Between what you told me, and what Yennefer said, it sounds like Jaskier screwed up too.”

“You talked to Yennefer about...this?” Geralt spluttered.  
“We’ve started a support group.” Eskel replied blandly. “You’ve been a pain in the ass to deal with the last couple of weeks.”

Had it really only been a few weeks? It felt like months. 

“I’m not ready yet.” Geralt muttered.

“You’ll never be ready. No one is. But you’re going to have to deal with it eventually.” relenting, Eskel got off the couch. “Go take a shower, we need to pick up your truck.”

. . . .

Eventually turned out to be about forty five minutes later.

Eskel had loaded the two hungover men into his car, before driving in a completely opposite direction from the bar. Geralt had been confused, but when Lambert demanded his wallet and Eskel pulled into a drive thru it made sense. He guessed he did owe them breakfast after making such an ass out of himself last night.

He became a little suspicious when his youngest brother ordered far more than three men could reasonably eat, and only more so when they continued to travel further away from the bar. By the time Geralt realized where they were heading it was too late. 

Trapped in the back seat, Geralt tried the door, not really sure what he intended to do. It’s not like he could just fling the door open and jump out at forty five miles an hour. Someone had engaged the child lock anyway.

He was so busy formulating an argument for why they needed to turn around right then that he almost missed it as the car slowed down and rolled to a stop in front of a very familiar old victorian house. Lambert clambered into the backseat, while Eskel jumped out of the front, yanking Geralt’s door open. The two brothers moved with coordinated grace, Eskel pulling, while Lambert pushed, and Geralt found himself quickly sprawled on the sidewalk, elbow skinned and dignity missing.

Before he could even stand back up, both car doors slammed shut, locks clicking with a dreadful finality. Eskel rolled the driver’s side window down just far enough to throw a greasy bag of drive-thru breakfast at him, laid on the horn, and then sped off. Geralt could swear he heard Lambert cackling from the back seat.

Okay. So, obviously now he knew their feelings on the matter. But he could just sneak away. It was early, nobody would be awake yet, and he could deal with this when he was ready.

Geralt stood up, dusting off his jeans, and risked a glance at Jaskier’s house. Then he stopped and stared. 

On the porch was a bright red clawfoot tub, surrounded by other various crates and boxes of building materials. And sitting in the tub, a blanket draped over his head and shoulders, squinting in the morning sun was Jaskier, staring back at him, looking confused. 

Fuck.


	21. Chapter Twenty One

“Pull up a ...porch,” Jaskier said, sitting up slightly and pulling the blanket off his head, but not climbing out of the tub. He fished his guitar out of a nest of pillows and blankets and gently propped it against the house. “Sorry, the swing’s out of order.” 

The swing, in fact, had been shoved back to make room for a stack of boxes full of floor tiles.

Geralt sat down awkwardly on the wooden planks of the porch so that he was facing Jaskier, the side of the tub providing a protective barrier, wordlessly he handed over a biscuit from the bag, choosing another at random for himself.

“Your bathroom stuff came.” Geralt observed, rather pointlessly, looking at the younger man. His clothes were rumpled and his hair stuck up in all directions. Besides that, it looked like he hadn’t shaved in a few days.

“Yesterday actually. Apparently I only paid them to deliver it this far. Mimosa?” 

Jaskier gulped down what Geralt had wrongly assumed to be a glass of regular juice, then reached over and pulled a carafe of orange juice and a bottle of sparkling wine from a plastic bucket that had been filled with ice. He refilled the tumbler and then poured the rest of the wine into the carafe before handing it to Geralt.

“I wasn’t expecting company, so that will have to do, unless you want to go get a glass.”

It wasn’t exactly convenient, but Geralt managed to take a long swallow.

“Isn’t it a little early to be drinking in your porch tub?” He asked, at a loss for what else to say.

Jaskier laughed. “Well, etiquette usually dictates that porch tub drinking shouldn’t start until five for whiskey, but the mimosa makes it a brunch, so we’re actually at the height of fashion.”

Geralt decided not to mention the empty liquor bottle he could see peeking out from under a clawed foot. It wasn’t like he had the moral high ground there.

“Don’t let the hipsters see you. You’ll start a trend. I’ll have to start installing bathroom fixtures in the coffee shop.”

“They already have the chandeliers made out of pipe.” Jaskier reminded him, teasingly. “I think it would look good.”

“You know how I feel about those fucking chandeliers.” Geralt mock grumbled.

The younger man finished his breakfast and leaned forward, propping his arms up up in the rim of the tub and resting his chin on them.

“I missed you.” he said simply, his big blue eyes full of an earnestness that made Geralt’s stomach do a flip. “I’m sorry, Geralt.”

“I’m sorry too.” Geralt said. “I shouldn’t have freaked out like that. I could at least have tried to talk about it.”

“Can we talk now?”

Geralt nodded.

“Words.” Jaskier reminded him softly, a hint of a smile in his voice.

“Yeah.” The older man took a deep breath. “I got upset after I came to see you sing at the coffee shop because I realized I had feelings for you. And I didn’t know if that was allowed. I didn’t know how you felt about me. Because we never talked about it.” He cut himself off before he could work himself up again, biting the inside of his cheek.

Jaskier looked at him for a minute. He seemed to be weighing his words carefully. “That was my fault. I let things go too far without asking you what you wanted out of our time together. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and what I did was completely unprofessional, and frankly unethical. You were my client and it was my responsibility to set clear expectations, and to end our professional relationship when we got too close.” He paused to take another gulp of his mimosa, and held up his hand when Geralt opened his mouth.

“You had every right to be mad at me. I’m sorry for that. I was scared that if I talked about it, it would ruin what we had, and I didn’t want to lose you, but that was no excuse. I just let myself pretend that everything was okay, that you were okay with what we were doing, and I didn’t talk to you at all.”

“How do you feel about me?” Geralt asked. That was the most important thing. Everything else could be sorted later.

“I loved you the minute I saw you.” Jaskier confessed, reaching out like he wanted to touch Geralt’s cheek, but stopping short, letting his hand drop away. Geralt caught it, and held it, rubbing his thumb against the back of the smaller hand in his grasp.

“I think I love you.” Geralt replied, honestly. “I care about you. I want you to be happy. I want to be the person that makes you happy.” Trying to explain how he felt about the younger man was almost impossible, but he had to try.

“You do make me happy.” Jaskier assured him.

“I don’t want to go back to being professional.” He wanted to make sure that the younger man understood that, though it felt like they were past that point in the conversation, with the declarations of love and all.

“Yeah. No. That ship has sailed I think.”

“Where do we go from here, then?” Geralt asked, staring at their hands.

“You can’t be my client anymore.” Jaskier said, tightening his grip as Geralt tried to pull his hand away. “And I can’t let you work on my house. No more sessions, or fees, or quid pro quo. If we’re going to be with each other, it will be just us. Because we want to be. I want to be with you. But it’s up to you to decide what you want.”

“I want to be with you.” Geralt said, and then impulsively added. “And I really want a hug.”

It was like the sun radiated from Jaskier’s smile. He sniffled a little and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. He reached out with both arms, tugging Geralt towards him. “Good thing I’ve got a big tub.”

With as much grace as the situation allowed, Geralt clambered into the tub, settling so that his back was against Jaskier’s front, legs drawn up a little to fit. Jaskier’s arms were a solid, comforting weight against his chest, his face tucked into the back of Geralt’s neck. It felt like Jaskier was never going to let him go. Geralt held on to his arm.

They sat like that, neither one of them saying anything for what must have been an hour. Jaskier eventually moved, but only enough to rearrange the blankets so that they draped over both of them.

The younger man started to giggle.

“What?” Geralt asked, turning his head slightly.

“We look like a couple of lunatics, and I’m pretty sure my neighbors already think I’m crazy. Considering the impromptu concert I put on last night.”

“I’m too comfortable to care. Besides, they’re not my neighbors.” Geralt replied pragmatically.

Jaskier hummed against his skin, and began to trace designs on Geralt’s chest. That was his “I’ve been thinking” hum.

“I think we need to set up some very clear guidelines for us. For what we’re doing. Is that okay with you?”

“Yes.” Geralt agreed. “ I want to know what we are, and what I’m allowed to do.”

“So first thing, You’re allowed to ask for anything you want. The answer might be no, but I don’t want you thinking you can’t ask. You have just as much say in all of this as I do, and you’re allowed to tell me no too, if I ask for something you don’t want. It’s important that you understand that.”

“Okay.”

“And we need to talk.” Jaskier continued “That was my mistake the first time. We don’t have to talk right now, I know it’s not easy for you, but maybe we can set up an, I don’t know, a weekly date night?”

“That sounds good.” It actually sounded pretty fantastic from where Geralt was sitting.

“I’m happy to go at your pace. Whatever you’re comfortable with. Look, honestly I don’t really think things through sometimes. I’m kind of impulsive, and as you can see by the fact that you caught me sleeping in a tub outside, I’m not exactly conventional. So, why don’t you tell me what you want to do? Take all the time you need to think about it.”

Geralt actually did, sipping his now lukewarm mimosa.

“Well, I know you said I can’t help with the house, but we have to get this stuff inside. It’s supposed to rain today.”

“So practical” Jaskier murmured, teasingly.

“One of us has to be. I like the idea of having a date night. I still want to be able to do this-”

“You mean cuddle” the younger man was grinning again. Geralt could feel it against his neck.

“I still don’t like that word. Yes. I still want to cuddle. Is it okay if we do that on date nights?”

“I’ll cuddle you whenever you want it. Can I hug you sometimes? Do you need me to ask before I do?”

“No. I don’t mind when you do that. Wait, was that why you always avoided touching me when we weren’t in sessions?”

“Yes? I thought you only wanted physical affection on your terms” Jaskier said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Geralt groaned.”I thought I only got it when I paid for it.” He let his head thunk back, narrowly avoiding headbutting Jaskier. “So for future reference, you don’t have to ask before you touch me.”

“Oh, you are getting so many hugs.” Jaskier said gleefully, squeezing him gently. “How do you feel about kissing?”

Geralt hesitated.

“There’s no wrong answer.” The younger man said, tone turning serious. 

“Not yet. It’s...complicated, and I’m not ready to talk about that right now.” He knew it would have to come out eventually. The fact that he didn’t really feel sexual attraction towards people. He knew you were supposed to feel it, when you loved someone. And he knew it wasn’t fair not to warn a potential partner that you weren’t interested in them that way. The fiasco last night only proved that he couldn’t force that part of a relationship just because he thought he had to.

“Okay. But I want you to know, If it’s ‘not now’ or ‘not ever’, it doesn’t change how I feel about you. We’ll talk about it when you’re ready.”

Geralt relaxed. What had he done to deserve Jaskier? 

“I want to take it slow,” he added, testing the boundaries of what he was allowed to ask for. “I don’t want to rush into things and screw it all up again. And we’re both busy, with responsibilities. Let’s start with a date night every week and go from there?”

“I think that’s a good idea.” Jaskier agreed. “Anything else?”

“If you won’t let me work on your house, you need to at least let me help you pick out some contractors for the bathroom. You don’t want a couple of idiots who don’t know what they’re doing.”

“You have a one track mind.”

“Hmm.” Geralt agreed. “It’s probably a two man job. If you still want to consider hiring Morhen and Sons on officially, I can think of a couple of idiots who do know what they’re doing, at least. I don’t usually get involved in their jobs, so you won’t have to worry about that.”

“If they’re okay with it, I think it’s a good idea. In fact, I think we should hire them right away.”

“So you don’t have to lift this tub?” Geralt asked.

“So I don’t have to lift this tub.” Jaskier agreed.


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

Hiring Eskel and Lambert had gone a lot more smoothly than Geralt had feared, and they had shown up less than two hours later. The introductions were slightly awkward, and Jaskier had shooed Geralt away, ordering him to go pick up some food for his new workers before he could meddle too much. By the time Geralt had gotten back with pizza, everything had been moved into the safety of the house, and the three men were settled at the kitchen table, hammering out details and coming up with a basic contract.

“I don’t know why you had to get such a big fucking tub.” Lambert complained. “It’s going to be a bitch to get up the stairs.”

“That’s why I hired professionals.” Jaskier said, unconcerned with either the language or the plan, “So I don’t have to worry about stuff like that.” He hopped up to take the boxes from Geralt, laying them out on the table, along with some napkins and paper plates. “I had an idea. The old linen closet that’s in the bathroom. How difficult would it be to put a washer and dryer in there? Otherwise I think they would have to go in the garage.”

Eskel looked at the sketch, frowning. “What do you think, Geralt?”

“Jaskier told me I can’t help.” He resisted the urge to stick out his tongue, sitting down at the table.

“As a contractor, you can’t work on it.” The younger man clarified, pausing behind Geralt to wrap familiar arms around his shoulders, propping his chin on his head. “But as the boyfriend of the bathroom’s owner, your opinion would be appreciated.” he said, teasingly.

Geralt felt his face turn red. They had discussed, briefly, labels they were both comfortable using, but it was still disconcerting to hear Jaskier using the word so freely, having fun testing it out.

Lambert choked on his slice of pizza.

Geralt ignored his brother, pulled the paper in front of him, and picked up a pencil. “You’d need to reframe the closet to make it deeper, but if you’re willing to get stacked machines you could make it work.”

Jaskier made a pleased sound, and let go of him, sliding into his own seat. “It would be convenient.”

“Easier said than done.” Eskel commented. “We could do it, but it would add some extra time and money, and we’ll need to figure out exactly how to vent it.”

“I have the utmost faith in you.” Jaskier said, primly. “Afterall, your company came highly recommended. Pass me the breadsticks please.”

. . . .

“Did they behave while I was gone?” Geralt asked, stretching out to sit sideways on the couch in Jaskier’s living room. His brothers had left shortly after their late lunch, promising to send their client a quote and schedule in a few days, and sending Geralt a lot of sidelong looks. He had taken great pleasure in shutting the door in their faces.

“They were absolutely charming.” Jaskier said, crawling up Geralt’s legs to flop facedown on the older man’s chest. Geralt obligingly spread his legs so that Jaskier could get more comfortable.

He snorted. Of the many adjectives he could use to describe those two. That wasn’t even close to the top one hundred.

“Well, Eskel was charming. Lambert was…”

“Lambert.” Geralt supplied.

“Exactly. I like him though. They were a little nosy, concerned that I would be good for their big brother. But it went fine.”

“I can still supervise them.” he offered.

“You’ll leave them alone and let them work.” Jaskier poked his chest. “I can handle them. Besides, Eskel said you had a lot of work to do in the office.”

“Ugh.” It was true though. Most of January was spent taking care of finances, business plans, and all sorts of other paperwork with Vesemir. The downside of being groomed to take over the company.

“Poor baby.” Jaskier cooed, sounding entirely unsympathetic. The younger man ran his own business, and was probably going to have to start in on his own pile of paperwork soon.

Geralt wrapped his arms around Jaskier and sighed. “Eventually they’re going to insist on meeting you properly, when they don’t have to behave because they’re working for you. Especially since you said I was your boyfriend.”

“Oh, you know you liked it. Served them right to have that shock, the way they threw you at my feet this morning.”

“Hmm.” Geralt agreed, and then continued.

“Vesemir won’t admit to it, but he’ll conveniently be around whenever that happens. And Yen. After the whole Christmas elf thing she pretty much demanded I bring you to dinner so she could interrogate you. It’s only going to be worse now that we’re together.”

“They’re your family Geralt. Of course I want to meet them. Even if you really aren’t doing a great job of making your ex wife sound non threatening.”

“She’s extremely threatening.” Geralt deadpanned.

“Well. Luckily for me, my big strong boyfriend will be there to protect me. Do you think Ciri will like me? She’s only seen me as an elf. That’s a tough act for plain old boring Jaskier to follow.”

“There is nothing plain and boring about you. But bribing her with a hot chocolate probably won’t hurt. She’ll be thrilled to have someone to watch Disney with.”

“Good.” Jaskier murmured, yawning and scrubbing his face into Geralt’s chest. “What about Roach? She’ll like me too right?”

“Roach will hate you, but she hates everyone.”

“Pfft. Animals love me. You just need to know their sweet spot.”

“I mean it.” Geralt warned, rubbing the younger man’s back as he settled in for a nap. “Don’t touch Roach. She’ll draw blood.”


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

“You’re late.” Geralt teased, once Jaskier’s last client, a middle aged man, was safely down the block. He pulled himself off the bench, and had to act quickly to keep the bouquet of flowers he had been holding from getting crushed as the younger man slung his arms around him.

Unsurprisingly, Jaskier was a hugger. He took every opportunity to wrap Geralt up in a hug now that he could do it whenever he wanted.

“Sorry. I was having to rearrange my schedule.” Jaskier explained with a sigh, keeping his head tucked into Geralt’s shoulder. Geralt didn’t like that tone. He hesitated. On the one hand, if it was about a client, Jaskier might not want to talk about it. But should he at least give him the opportunity, shouldn’t he? He had been getting more comfortable with letting Jaskier take comfort when he needed it, and Jaskier had taught Geralt to ask for comfort when he wanted it. But he still struggled to offer comfort. He wished it came as naturally to him as it did to the younger man.

“Is...Uh, Is everything okay?” He stuttered out, once Jaskier started to pull back.

“It’s fine. It’s just, my client hasn’t been feeling well.” Jaskier twirled his hand a little, indicating the direction the man had gone. “He wants to start coming in twice a week. At three hours a pop, it took some time to find the space. And, his sessions are always pretty tiring for the both of us, more tiring than sessions normally are.”

Geralt frowned. Jaskier never complained too much, but it hadn’t been hard to see just how tiring being a professional cuddler could be. The younger man had called it emotional labor, and apparently this client was starting to wear him down. 

“Nothing bad. He just likes for me to play music, or read to him. It’s a bit hard on the throat. Are those sunflowers?” Jaskier abruptly changed the subject, sounding delighted as he noticed the small bundle of flowers that Geralt had been holding.

“Well, it is our first official date.” Geralt explained, handing over the bouquet. “I thought we could check out the steakhouse down the block.”

“They’re lovely,” Jaskier beamed, threading his arm through Geralt’s. “And that sounds delicious.”

As they walked the short distance, Jaskier kept lifting the flowers up to his nose, smiling every time. Geralt was pleased that such a little thing could make the man so happy. It made the half hour he had spent agonizing over choices at the florist worth it.

“You know,” Jaskier said, once they had been seated in a quiet booth. “I’ve had an office downtown for two years, and I’ve never eaten here. The food all sounds amazing”

That was true. It was a lot nicer than the places that Geralt usually went to. Of course, most of the places Geralt went to either had a drive thru or a dart board. There was a fresh white table cloth at each setting, and the waitress had even found a vase somewhere to secure Jaskier’s flowers. But he could pronounce everything on the menu at least. He was glad he had dressed up.

When it came time to order Jaskier deferred to him, fluttering his eyelashes as he declared that his date would order for them both. Geralt thought briefly about making him eat a liver pate for his teasing, but settled on baked chicken, ordering a rare steak for himself.

“How’s the house going?” Geralt asked, pretending that Lambert hadn’t been sending him pictures and updates throughout the week.

“Almost finished I think. Eskel promised to have the water running by Monday. Your brothers have done an incredible job, and so quickly.” Jaskier had been praising the two men left and right, sending him pictures almost every night with whatever new thing he found completed when he came home.

“Probably because you’re not there.” Geralt said absently, spearing a tomato wedge from his salad and popping it in his mouth. Jaskier made an offended squawking noise, and Geralt had to swallow his food quickly to reassure the younger man.

“No, I mean, we’re just not used to being able to do our job without the clients hanging around, getting in the way, asking a million questions or telling us how to do things.”

“I hung around you all the time, asking a million questions while you fixed my house.” Jaskier waved his fork in the air, occasionally pointing it at Geralt as he talked. By some miracle he was managing not to sling salad dressing everywhere.

“Hmm.” 

“Don’t ‘hmm’ me. Was I being a nuisance and you didn’t tell me?”

“It’s not the same. I enjoyed having you around.”

“So you’re saying I wasn’t a nuisance?”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier grinned and knocked Geralt’s ankle with his foot. “I’ll interpret that as ‘of course not Jaskier. You were a joy and a delight and I enjoyed every minute we spent together.’ if you don’t mind.”

Geralt returned the nudge under the table. “I do enjoy spending time with you, Jaskier.” He said honestly, feeling his chest tighten when Jaskier ducked his head, grin turning into a bashful smile. He had learned that honest compliments, as awkward as they were to give, always had that effect on the usually outgoing and confident man. Oddly enough, it only seemed to happen when Geralt was the one giving the compliments. He’d seen Jaskier puff up like a peacock when someone praised his musical abilities, and handled kids who recognized ‘the elf’ with good grace when they ran up to him. Geralt wondered what the difference was.

As the salad was finished and the main courses came out, the conversation continued on, only slightly stilted when Geralt tried to fill the silence with typical first date questions. He had prepared for tonight by reading articles online that had several suggestions. Of course, most of those articles assumed that you hadn’t been seeing someone almost constantly for a year before having your first date. Jaskier managed to salvage his clumsy attempts though, and by dessert, Geralt had lost any nervousness he might have felt. 

“Since you did such a delicious job ordering dinner.” Jaskier declared to Geralt, once the waitress returned, “Let’s see how I do. You don’t like things that are too sweet, but you like the taste of coffee, and you always complain about how many hours it will take to work something off in the gym. So-” He turned to the young woman, who looked amused. “A tiramisu to split please. Two spoons.”

. . . .

After they had finished their, admittedly perfect, dessert, and briefly tussled over the bill, which Jaskier had allowed Geralt to pay in the end, they walked back to Jaskier’s office, holding hands, gloved fingers laced together.

Jaskier tugged Geralt down on the bench in front of his door, snuggling under his arm. It was cold enough that he could see their breaths hanging in the air in front of them. Geralt used his free hand to make sure Jaskier’s hat and scarf was covering him as much as possible. Jaskier just laughed and let him do it.

“Not to rush into things, but I think that was a successful first date.” Jaskier teased. 

“The food was good.” Geralt responded blandly.

“The company was better.” Jaskier replied.

They sat together in silence for a few moments. It was a familiar routine by now, and Geralt didn’t feel pressured to try and fill the void, or think that he was boring the younger man. Eventually though Jaskier started to shiver, despite his warm clothing.

“We could go inside.” The older man suggested.

“On the first date?” Jaskier sounded scandalized, clearly teasing.

But that was usually where dates went, eventually wasn’t it? Or at least a good night kiss as you lingered on the doorstep. That’s not quite what they were doing now, but it felt like it.

Well, Geralt supposed. Jaskier had asked that they would have date nights so they could, how had he phrased it, keep the lines of communication open? No time like the present. He worked up as much courage as he could pull together.

“About that…” He started, then paused. Jaskier made an encouraging little humming noise under his arm. “I don’t usually uh, go inside, on the first date.” And christ, he didn't mean for it to sound like a cheesy innuendo. “I mean, well, I don’t.” He floundered. “Kissing.” Geralt blurted out, then immediately wanted to go and find a hole to crawl into and die.

Jaskier stayed silent, but put a comforting hand on his knee, waiting for him to continue at his own pace.

Geralt took a deep breath. “Yennefer says I’m asexual. It means I don’t really find someone sexually attractive, even if I like them. It doesn’t mean I don’t like..I don’t love them any less, and I can appreciate that they’re beautiful, or handsome, but that part of me is just broken.” He really hadn’t thought he was going to be having this particular conversation on their first date.

“You are not broken.” Jaskier said firmly. “Everyone is different, and the way you love people is just as valid as anyone else’s way.” The younger man turned his hand over on Geralt’s knee and wriggled his fingers until Geralt took it, interlocking their hand again.

“Thank you for telling me.” Jaskier continued, more softly. “And if we’re exchanging labels, I consider myself pansexual. Do not make the pots and pans joke.”

Geralt smiled but kept his mouth shut.

“We’ll figure things out as we go. You can’t run me off that easy. This isn’t really first date stuff but can I ask you a couple of personal questions?” Jaskier really didn’t seem offended. Maybe he had put together all of the clues for himself already.

“Okay.” 

“So, you have a daughter. And you were married. So I’m assuming…”

Geralt snorted. “That I had sex with Yennefer? Yes. But Ciri isn’t actually biologically mine. Yen wanted a baby, so she had one. She’s never shared the specifics actually, but Ciri is my daughter just the same.”

“Oh.” Jaskier said, blinking in surprise as he took in this new information. “We’re going to need to circle back to that eventually, but you and Yen...you obviously had an, er, active relationship. If you don’t mind me being blunt, do you even like sex?”

Geralt thought back to that rather disastrous bar trip the previous week. 

“It’s not...terrible. If it’s with the right person. If it’s something they want. I like making my partners happy.”

“On a scale of sitting on a cactus to winning the lottery, where would it fall?” Jaskier asked. 

“It’s somewhere above unclogging a toilet, but below going out for tacos.” Geralt responded, trying to come up with equally ridiculous examples. “You?”

“Honestly, I love sex, if I have an enthusiastic partner. But, affection comes in many forms, and they don’t have to be physical. Given the choice, I’d rather get tacos with you than sleep with someone else.”

Geralt considered that. 

“We never have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable, or that you don’t enjoy.” Jaskier said, then quickly amended his statement. “In the bedroom. I’m absolutely planning to drag you to weird off-broadway musicals, and open mic nights, and you’re probably going to hate those.”

He groaned, and Jaskier squeezed his hand reassuringly. “I don’t want you to think that you owe me sex, or even kisses, just because we’re going to be dating. And before you even have the idea, it also doesn’t mean that I’ll go looking for it elsewhere. I’m pretty handy at entertaining myself if you get my drift.”

It was pretty hard not to.

“Thank you,” Geralt said. 

For listening. For understanding. For not pushing the subject.

They sat together in silence for another moment until Jaskier started shivering in earnest.

When they parted ways for the night, Jaskier wrapped Geralt into a tight hug before allowing himself to be bundled in his car with instructions to text once he was home safely.

The entire ride back to his apartment, Geralt could feel the warmth of Jaskier’s arms around him.


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

Geralt was a morning person. Always had been. He usually woke with the sunrise during the week so that he could squeeze in a trip to the gym before work, or a jog if the weather was nice. On alternating weekends he was eager to pick up Ciri. He just couldn’t stay in bed when there was so much that needed to be done.

Jaskier was decidedly not a morning person. He hardly ever scheduled a client before ten, and if Geralt had wanted him up and ready to work on the house on the weekends he had devoted to fixing the place up, he had to bribe him with breakfast, coffee, and the promise that he didn’t have to actually do anything important until his brain realized he was awake.

This wouldn’t usually be a problem, but after their second date night, at a new mexican restaurant at the edge of town, Jaskier had wanted to finish watching Return of the King. The younger man had mentioned that he missed their usual Friday night cuddle sessions, so Geralt had brought him back to the apartment, where they stretched out on Geralt’s bed. Jaskier had curled up with his head on Geralt’s chest and asked to have his hair stroked. The older man had been happy to oblige. After the movie ended, Geralt had decided he was too comfortable to get up and drive Jaskier back home, so they just pulled back the covers and went to sleep, wrapped up around each other. Even Roach had wandered in, lying at the foot of the bed, tail swishing.

Maybe not the most conventional way to get someone in your bed after a second date, but Geralt wasn’t complaining. They hadn’t specifically said that spending the night was off the table yet.

The actual problem arose when Geralt’s alarm clock went off at six thirty in the morning, quickly followed by Roach yowling for her breakfast, having been summoned by the familiar noise that meant her butler was awake. 

“Christ almighty.” Jaskier muttered emphatically, burrowing into Geralt’s side and pulling a pillow over his head. “Geralt, make it stop.”

Geralt reached over, groping to find his phone and accidentally smacking Roach on the head. She batted his hand and hissed. “Sorry girl.” he apologized, finally finding his phone and shutting it off.

“Come on.” He cajoled, poking Jaskier in the ribs. “We might as well get up.” 

Jaskier hissed at him and tried to bury himself under the older man’s bulk.

Geralt sighed. 

“Yen is dropping Ciri off in a little while. You at least need to go take a shower and let me tumble press your clothes.”

Jaskier didn’t respond, already halfway to dozing again. 

“Unless you want to meet your boyfriend’s ex wife looking like a homeless person who just crawled out of bed, get up”

Rubbing his morning stubble against Geralt’s arm, Jaskier made a face. “How can I look homeless and also look like I just crawled out of bed. One would naturally preclude the other.”

“The fact that you can use preclude in a sentence correctly means that you’re awake enough to go take a shower.” Geralt prodded.

Roach meowed loudly and knocked Geralt’s phone off the side table.

“Ugh” Jaskier responded, rolling, quite literally, out of bed. “Fine.”

By the time Roach had been properly looked after, and Geralt had fixed a quick breakfast of eggs and toast to tide them over until Ciri showed up, Jaskier was out of the shower, hair still wet, wearing the same jeans from last night. He was holding a crumpled up, wrinkled, shirt in one hand.

“Can I just grab one of yours?” The younger man asked, yawning.

Geralt blinked. Jaskier, casually wearing his shirts, wasn’t something that he had considered. The mental image made his face go hot.

“Uh..sure. Help yourself. There’s some extra toothbrushes under the sink, and a razor in the medicine cabinet.”

Jaskier grunted in an appreciative fashion and disappeared into the bedroom.

Geralt hoped the younger man didn’t have to be fully awake to shave properly.

. . . .

“Do you know how much you could sell this for at the vintage shop downtown?”

Geralt frowned and looked over at Jaskier, then promptly lost his train of thought.

The younger man was leaning against the door frame, hair somewhat combed and wearing a tee shirt that was a size too big for him. The collar, somewhat lower than his usual, allowed a thick patch of chest hair to peek through, at odds with his smooth cheeked baby face.

The shirt itself was one of the few Geralt had that actually advertised Morhen and Sons Home Repair Services, and he knew for a fact that Jaskier would have had to dig to find it. He didn’t wear it much because it was spattered in paint and grease stains and slightly ragged around the sleeves. Evidently, It was the shirt that Jaskier had been referring too, because he held it away from him slightly and did a twirl.

“Honestly. The design is a little retro, it has that washed a million times look, and the stains? So artistic. It’s the height of fashion.”

“You’re not selling my painting shirt to the hipsters.”

Jaskier affected a pout, and flopped down on the couch beside Geralt.

“You’re missing a golden opportunity.” he sighed, filching a piece of toast from Geralt’s plate. “Do you have time to take me home or do I need to call a taxi?”

Geralt didn’t know why he was disappointed. They hadn’t exactly planned for Jaskier to spend the night, and hadn’t talked about when they should schedule something with Yennefer and Ciri. Of course it was too spur of the moment for Jaskier just to stay this morning. Too fast.

He must have taken too long to answer, because Jaskier was squinting at him suspiciously. Geralt tried to school his face into a neutral expression, but his disappointment must have shown.

“Okay. We’re talking about this.” Jaskier decided, taking the breakfast plate off Geralt’s lap and setting it to the side before kneeling to straddle his thighs so that he was sitting in his lap. His arms went around Geralt’s shoulder, and Geralt’s hands instinctively came up to hold onto Jaskier’s hips.

“What?” Geralt asked, only a little defensively.

“I asked if I should take a cab and you looked at me like I had kicked your puppy, and I want to know why.”

Geralt sighed. It was impossible not to answer when Jaskier was so direct. “I had hoped you would want to stay and meet Yen and Ciri. It’s okay though. It’s too soon. I’ll take you home.”

“Hold on.” Jaskier said, squeezing his knees a little tighter around Geralt’s thighs, all the harder to be dislodged if the larger man tried to get rid of him. “Okay. Obviously a good example of the need for communication. I assumed that you wouldn’t want me hanging around today. I know we had talked about, kind of, formally introducing me to them, but it always involved dinners, or planning. You also don’t get much time with Ciri and I didn’t want to intrude. For the record, I’d like to stay if you want me to stay, and I’m okay with leaving if you want to have time alone with your daughter.”

“Oh.” Geralt said. He kept forgetting how much easier things were when he remembered to actually talk about them, even if it did go against his instincts. “I’d like you to stay.” He admitted. “We were planning to have a big sit down breakfast. We have them sometimes, when Yennefer is dropping Ciri off here.”

Jaskier smiled down at him. “I’d like to stay. But you have to cuddle me for at least fifteen minutes now.” He wriggled a bit, until his arms were wrapped around Geralt’s middle and his head lay on one of his shoulders. It looked slightly uncomfortable for the younger man to be basically curled up in a ball on his lap, but he seemed content to stay there.

“You can have ten.” Geralt allowed, “then I’ll teach you how to make hash brown casserole.”

Jaskier just made a rude noise.

From her perch on the coffee table, Roach eyed Geralt and, seeming to realize he was trapped beneath their house guest, began to delicately sniff at the breakfast plate.

“Roach.” Geralt warned, trying to find something soft enough that he could throw without feeling bad about it. “Don’t you dare.”

The large black cat stared directly at him, and began to eat his eggs.


	25. Chapter Twenty Five

As soon as the door opened, Ciri shot past the kitchen, yelling “Hi! Need to pee!” as she went. 

“She swore she didn’t need to go before we got in the car.” Yennefer commented, hanging up her fur trimmed coat and hat, and straightening her long black hair before turning to face the two men in the kitchen.

“Nice shirt.” Yennefer drawled, eyes sweeping up and down Jaskier’s form critically. “You must be the boyfriend.” 

“You must be the ex. Nice coat.” Jaskier matched her tone, eyeing the trim with distaste.

“Be nice.” Geralt reminded them both. Yennefer hadn’t been pleased when he texted her to let her know that Jaskier would be staying for breakfast. Something about a sneak attack. It wasn’t like she was completely in the dark about the situation. She knew he had been Jaskier’s client and he had called her once he and Jaskier had decided to officially start dating. Though, the thought occurred to him suddenly, that maybe Yennefer had been so insistent about dropping Ciri off this weekend because she wanted to grill him about his new relationship, face to face. It did seem like one of her tactics. 

Jaskier, for his part, seemed to take his advice to heart. “I’m Jaskier Pankratz.” He offered a hand, but then seemed to realize it was covered in flour and crumbs. Hastily, he drew it back.

“I know.” Yennefer said, flatly. 

Geralt rolled his eyes. 

Apparently, that was the end of introductions, as Jaskier simply shrugged and turned back to flip the pancakes he had been making. 

Thank god for children though, Geralt thought, as Ciri barreled back into the kitchen, straight into his legs.

“Hi Dad. Hi Jaskier. Are those chocolate?” She was staring wide eyed at the mound of pancakes already on the counter. 

“Of course not princesses.” Jaskier replied seriously, “These are double chocolate with chocolate chips.”

“With whipped cream and chocolate syrup?” Ciri had turned her wide eyes on Geralt now, and he was powerless against them. 

“And chocolate sprinkles?” Jaskier added his own wide eyes to the mix, a teasing smile on his lips.

This might be the way for Jaskier to win Ciri over, but it would only be a mark against him with her mother. Geralt wondered if he should intervene before she had to be the bad guy. Surprisingly, it was Yennefer who answered. “Fine. But only because it’s a special occasion. And only if you have something healthy to go with it.” That was as close as Yennefer would come to a peace offering right now.

“And,” Geralt said, feeling like he should reinforce good habits. “If you help set the table.”

“Deal.” Ciri agreed, grabbing a handful of silverware and taking off before her parents could change their minds.

“Are you actually an elf?” Yennefer muttered disbelievingly, once Ciri was out of earshot. 

Jaskier just rolled up a pancake and stuffed it into his mouth with a grin, before following Ciri out of the kitchen with plates of food. Geralt shrugged and followed him out with the casserole. 

Geralt had hoped breakfast would be peaceful, and it was, until Ciri actually finished her first pancake.

“So why is Jaskier here?” She asked, wiping the chocolate syrup from her plate with her fingers and licking them clean.

Geralt and Jaskier had actually discussed how to handle this, but he still felt the brief surge of panic. He felt a hand squeeze his knee under the table.

“Well, I like Jaskier very much, and he likes me, so he’s going to be hanging around more often.” He said, simplifying it as much as he could.

“Your dad invited me to breakfast so I could meet you and your mom properly.” Jaskier added.

“Oh.” Ciri munched on a piece of fruit thoughtfully. “Are you dating?”

Sometimes Geralt forgot that kids in general were a lot smarter than grownups gave them credit for.

“Yes.” he said. 

“Cool.” She turned her attention back to her plate.

Well, that was easier than he had anticipated. 

“So, Jaskier” Yennefer dabbed at her mouth with a napkin, her face a picture of politeness. “What do you do for a living?”

Or maybe not so easy. Geralt tried to come up with a segue, or at least a distraction. He had just settled on tipping over the carafe of juice when Jaskier’s hand reappeared on his knee, patting it lightly. They hadn’t exactly talked about what to tell Ciri Jaskier’s job was, but the younger man didn’t seem worried.

“I’m a musician. I write my own songs and play some different instruments. I have a youtube channel. And I’m also a professional cuddler.” Jaskier stared levelly at Yennefer as he answered. “People come to me when they’re lonely, or they need a friend and I give them a hug, or sit and talk with them. I help a lot of people that way.”

“He sings really funny Christmas songs.” Ciri told Yennefer, then wanting to be a part of the conversation, she wiped at her mouth, copying her mother. “So, who’s the best disney princess?”

“Well that depends,” Jaskier answered her, just as earnestly as he would have any adult. “ Ariel is certainly the most adventurous, but I think Moana is the bravest. What traits do you think it’s important for a princess to have?”

The debate over princesses soon grew spirited, with both Geralt and Yennefer being pulled into the discussion. Jaskier had managed pretty handily to steer the conversation into much safer territory, and even Yennefer seemed grudgingly impressed by that skill.

After much negotiation it was decided that Merida was a good candidate for the title of “best princess”, but some further research was needed. Jaskier shot the two other adults a knowing look.

“Well, I think we need to rewatch the movie, just to make sure. Why don’t we go do that while your mom and dad clean up and have a nice chat.”

“Good idea,” Ciri agreed. “They always talk about boring stuff anyway.”

. . . .

Geralt, for the first time, was thankful that his apartment had a separate kitchen. He hadn’t really ever thought about it before, but thinking back to his apartment shopping days, he remembered most of them being more open, with a bar, or large window to separate the kitchen from the living room. He did not want to be having this conversation in an open floor plan.

“Look Yennefer,” he sighed, scrubbing dried cheese off the casserole dish. “I appreciate your concern, but I wouldn’t let Jaskier be around Ciri if I didn’t trust him.”

Jaskier and Ciri had barely left the kitchen table before his formidable ex-wife had whipped out her phone. Apparently she had notes prepared, and he had found himself being interrogated on the younger man’s behalf.

Yes, he had been a client of Jaskier’s and he realized that they had both been stupid to continue that while clearly wanting to date.

Yes, it also was a little weird that Jaskier was a professional cuddler, but that was his job and nothing to do with him personally, and he wasn’t jealous of the clients.

No, he didn’t really care that Jaskier had a criminal record, because it was a long time ago, and it was for illegally planting wildflowers in an empty lot.

No, he didn’t realize that “eco-protests” were actually a thing either, or that you could get arrested for planting flowers, even if they were a native species. Jaskier had already told him about it anyway.

“It’s not Ciri I’m worried about. It will be nice for her to have someone else around that also thinks like a third grader. She’s already outgrown Lambert’s witty first grader repertoire.”

“Yen”. He really didn’t want to sigh again.

“I want to make sure he’s good for you Geralt. You haven’t dated in so long, and you don’t usually meet romantic partners by hiring them to cuddle you.”

“My brothers hired him.” he felt the need to point out. 

“And you kept going. And now you’re dating him. Is it serious?”

“Not exactly.” Geralt said, carefully. “We’re dating. But we’ve agreed not to rush into anything. Actually, we just went on our second date last night.”

Yennefer laughed. 

“What?” Geralt asked.

“He obviously spent the night here, you invited him to stay for breakfast with your family and you’ve been together for what, almost a year now? And you’re on your second date?”

“He didn’t spend the night, he just...slept over here. And I decided we might as well rip the bandaid off the whole family thing” God he hated talking about this sort of stuff. “We both screwed up with communication before, and we don’t want to risk doing that again and messing things up. So we’re taking it slow. We have date nights, we talk, we watch movies. It might be something more someday, but I don’t know”

“Does he know about your-” Yennefer looked pointedly downward. “Problem.”

“He,” Geralt growled. “doesn’t consider it a problem.” Yennefer had never really gotten over the fact that Geralt hadn’t been attracted to her in that way, seeing it as a personal slight. When they were a couple, many of their fights had been about that, and while she had softened a bit after they separated, she never really did understand.

For a moment Yennefer’s eyes flashed, but then she visibly, and purposefully, relaxed.

“I just want to make sure you’re not going to get hurt. I want you to be with someone that makes you happy.” She said eventually. “Even if it is with that weird little goblin.”

“I am happy.” Geralt reassured her. “Jaskier makes me happy.”

Yennefer sighed. “Alright. I think he’s already passed the Ciri test anyway, so I guess you have my blessing. But I’m still going to be keeping an eye on him.”

“Thank you.” Geralt said, dryly. “I promise, If I catch him planting a daffodil without a permit I’ll let you know right away.”


	26. Chapter Twenty Six

If you had asked Geralt a few weeks ago what the most uncomfortable experience he had ever had with his brothers in a bathroom was, then the answer would have been that one summer when he was twelve that they did not talk about, closely followed by the night he spent puking and spilling his guts about his feelings for Jaskier after a failed one night stand.

Now? Well the summer thing was still number one, but there was a new contender for second place.

When Jaskier had called him to invite him over to celebrate having the bathroom finished, he hadn’t expected to find the younger man throwing a party in there, or for his two brothers to be in attendance.

Jaskier himself had been sprawled in the, thankfully empty, tub, thankfully, fully clothed, and propped up on his new bath pillow. Lambert was perched on the closed toilet, while Eskel was sitting on the floor. They cheered and lifted their bottles when they saw Geralt round the corner.

Lambert tossed him a beer. 

“Doesn’t it look amazing?” Jaskier asked.

Of course it did. Geralt took pride in the work that Morhen and Sons did, even if he wasn’t directly involved. The room itself was the eclectic mix of antique and modern that Jaskier seemed to prefer, with the clawfoot tub taking pride of place in front of a large bay window. He took a moment to admire the neat tile work, and the smooth painting job.

“Hmm”. He agreed, propping his hip up against the sink.

“Allow me to translate” Jaskier said, with an affectionate eye roll. “What your taciturn sibling means is ‘Yes Jaskier, my brothers did a fantastic job and I’m very proud of all their hard work and considerable skill.’” 

Geralt grunted. It wasn’t untrue, but he couldn’t exactly say that to them.

“You should let Jaskier translate for you more often.” Eskel grinned.

“You shouldn’t be drinking on the job.” he shot back, without any heat.

“Job’s over. Got the paycheck and everything” Lambert patted his chest pocket, where a small slip of paper stuck out. “Nothing says we can’t have a drink with our brother’s new boyfriend. Get to know him better. Share embarrassing stories about said brother’s childhood that may or may not involve a raccoon.”

“I thought it was cute”. Jaskier added, unhelpfully.

“It was not cute. I had to get rabies shots. And I still have a scar.” Geralt argued. If Lambert wanted to bring up embarrassing animal stories there was plenty of ammunition there. He was pretty sure he had actually told Jaskier a lot of them though. Maybe he deserved this one a little.

“Why were you even trying to put a raccoon in your bookbag?”

“I forgot my show and tell. It seemed like a good idea.”

“The next week he decided to show off his stitches. The other ten year olds were suitably impressed.” Eskel said. Geralt didn’t know if Eskel was trying to help him at this point or not.

That was a good enough excuse for Geralt though, and he immediately threw Eskel under the bus with the story of how they found out Eskel was scared of spiders. The next hour passed enjoyably, even with such a strange impromptu party setting, and Jaskier didn’t seem to be put off by his brothers one bit. Plenty of pictures were taken of the bathroom and forwarded to Vesemir at Jaskier’s request. Eventually though, the last of the beers were emptied and the sun started setting.

“You’d better get back to the shop to finish out the paperwork.” Geralt said, gathering up the empty bottles.

“I think that might have been a hint that we’ve outstayed our welcome.” Eskel stage whispered to Lambert.

“He’s not that subtle, and he didn’t actually tell us to get out.” Lambert disagreed, quickly draining his beer before it could be taken away.

“Get out.” Geralt said, pointedly.

“It’s my house.” Jaskier protested, flailing a little as he tried to pull himself out of the tub. Geralt reached down and grabbed his arm, hauling him up and setting him back down carefully on his feet. “You don’t have to go. I can just lay out some more hamburger if you want to stay for dinner.”

“No, Geralt’s right” Eskel was quick to decline the invitation before Lambert could accept it. “It’s getting late and he gets grumpy when he finds unfinished paperwork in the morning.”

“Well, the offer stands. Once it gets a little warmer, I’ll have a barbecue or something. It’s the least I can do, since Geralt says that you’re not really supposed to tip repair men.”

Jaskier had at least actually asked Geralt about it, not wanting to accidentally insult the two men by not offering anything. He was always thoughtful like that.

Lambert stopped, halfway out the door. “Oh how do you like that, Mr. By The Rules says we can’t get tips.” he complained. “But he didn’t mind getting some extra attention when he worked here. Where’s our cuddles then?”

A muscle in Geralt’s cheek twitched. Lambert just had to open his fat mouth didn’t he? Sometimes the man didn’t know when the teasing went too far.

“Oh.” Jaskier said, in a bright tone that Geralt had absolutely not been expecting. “I guess you’re right. They really wouldn’t count would they?” and before Lambert could react, Jaskier had darted in, hugging him tightly around the middle.

Lambert stood absolutely still, staring wildly at Geralt over Jaskier’s head, then slowly wrapped his arms around the smaller man, holding on for a second before loosening his grip and thumping him a little on the back, in the customary ending of the typical man hug.

Jaskier pulled back and then eyed Eskel. Eskel lifted his arms obligingly, accepting his own hug from the younger man with slightly more grace.

“Thanks again.” Jaskier said, once he let go. “And anytime you need another hug, just let me know.” he added with a wink towards Lambert. 

“Well in that case. I want another one for the road” Eskel was grinning wickedly.

Geralt growled. 

Jaskier just laughed and hugged him again.

. . . .

After Lambert and Eskel left, and dinner had been eaten, Geralt and Jaskier sat together on the porch swing. While Geralt didn’t mind the cold, just wearing his coat, Jaskier was bundled up in a thick blanket, feet tucked up under him and away from the chill.

“I don’t know how you do it.” Geralt said suddenly. He realized that maybe he needed to elaborate a little more. He had been thinking about the way that Jaskier had hugged his brothers and how he always seemed ready to offer a helping hand or a kind word so freely, while Geralt still struggled to be the one to instigate any type of physical affection. The book that Triss had given him, which he hadn’t yet returned to Jaskier, stressed the importance of both partners...how did they put it? Initiating contact? But then his brain got involved and he started worrying that he would screw it up somehow.

“Do what?” Jaskier asked.

“Hugging all the time.” Geralt tried to explain his thought process. “You see someone that wants or needs comfort and you just give it to them. Without thinking about it.”

Jaskier tugged at Geralt’s hand until he could comfortably hold it in his lap. “When we first met I told you I was a hugger. It’s true. I love physical affection, in all the different ways you can have it. It’s how I show people I care about them. And I’m pretty sure we huggers have a sixth sense so that we can recognize when other people want a hug. You for example, you were terrible at first about admitting it, but you crave a good cuddle. I had you pegged the moment you walked through my door. Yennefer on the other hand? I don’t think I’d keep my balls if I tried to hug her, not even just a friendly little hug between acquaintances.”

“Hmm.” Geralt mulled this over for a while. “But how do you know that someone wants that?”

“Well, being a performer helps. And I’ve been a professional for years now. I’m good at reading people that way. But family and friends are easier. You already know them.”

But that was the problem with Geralt. He had known Jaskier for almost a year now. Jaskier’s insistence on communication had made it a lot easier since they started dating, but still, it was the younger man who touched first most of the time, or would flat out ask when he felt the need to be held. And it went beyond that. Jaskier started conversations. Jaskier suggested things. Jaskier offered comfort without Geralt having to ask for it.

Whenever Geralt tried to do the same he floundered. It was so easy for Jaskier. Why was it so difficult for him?

“It’s all about figuring out what someone’s love language is.” Jaskier continued. “If it’s physical affection, then no problem, I know exactly what to do.”

That phrase seemed familiar but Geralt wasn’t sure where he had heard it before. He made a questioning humming noise in the back of his throat as he tucked the blanket in more tightly when it started to slip from the younger man’s shoulders.

“Okay.” Jaskier’s voice ticked upward with excitement. “The theory behind love languages is really cool, and I’ll probably geek out a little so bear with me. There’s a lot of different ways to show people you care about them, but not everyone does it the same way. A love language is, basically, how you say I love you. There’s five of them.” he held up his hand, ticking each one off on his fingers.

“Obviously, there’s physical affection. That’s me. I pass out hugs like candy. Nothing says I love you like being wrapped up in someone’s arms. Words of affirmation are another. Things like praising someone or thanking them.Just giving them compliments. Third would be quality time. You know, the type of person who just gives you their undivided attention when you’re together. They value just being with the person they love. Receiving gifts is the next one. They like little tokens that prove someone was thinking about them. They’re also the ones picking out things because they remind them of their loved ones.

And of course, the last one is acts of service. That’s your language.”

“It is?” Geralt asked. 

“Yes. How many times have you brought me breakfast, or gone to grab my coat because I forgot it? And today, I saw you tightening the screw on that drawer pull that’s been bugging me. When you do that sort of thing, I know it’s because you care about me. Acts of service is most definitely your language.”

Well, Geralt couldn’t say Jaskier was wrong.None of the others really seemed to fit. He just hadn’t thought about it that way.

“But that means we don’t speak the same language.” he pointed out the obvious flaw in Jaskier’s theory. 

Jaskier just shrugged. He didn’t seem concerned. “We can get our points across. It’s like any other language. Put two people in a room together from opposite ends of the globe, and give them a purpose. Pretty soon they’ll be able to understand each other. That’s actually how I learned French you know? I shared a dorm room with an exchange student for three months.”

“I didn’t know you could speak French.” Geralt was surprised. That was something he would have assumed Jaskier would have bragged about much earlier.

“Only a little. And my pronunciation is atrocious. Honestly, I mostly just learned curse words and some pillow talk.”

Of course Jaskier would think that was the essentials of a foreign language. 

Geralt made a note to look into this whole love languages thing a little more, and pulled Jaskier’s blanket up from where it had slid down again when the younger man had waved his arms around while speaking. It was probably time to head inside before it got any colder.


	27. Chapter Twenty Seven

Geralt fiddled with a socket wrench as he stared at the spreadsheet. This morning’s job, tearing out an old deck and hauling off the rotten wood, had been finished quickly. Demolition jobs were always pretty satisfying, and he usually had to fight Lambert for them. His youngest brother was particularly good at being destructive, whether the situation called for it or not.

But it made the afternoon seem even more boring. He had been holed up in the cramped little garage office for well over two hours now, trying to work out a reasonable schedule. Business was picking up again, always did around this time of year, and between him and Vesemir, they had to keep everything organized and running smoothly. Vesemir had slowly been handing over responsibility to Geralt for the last few years now, and for all intents and purposes was mostly retired. He did an odd job when it interested him or they needed all hands on deck, but he preferred to stay up at his cabin, enjoying his quasi-retirement. Geralt was lucky to talk to him once or twice a month, and actually saw him in person even less.

In practical terms, it meant that Geralt was stuck figuring out which jobs should be done when, by whom, and how long it should take, with the minimum amount of complaining from either the client or his brothers. He had come up with something workable, but felt like there had to be a better solution. Geralt just couldn’t figure it out at the moment.

It was probably time for a break he decided, closing his laptop and pulling out his phone instead. There was a new message waiting for him. Jaskier had sent him a picture of a cupcake, with bright purple frosting piled high and some sort of shimmery sugar sprinkled on top. There was a matching drink in the background. Following the picture was a simple text message with a unicorn head emoji.

“That had better not have been your lunch.” Geralt muttered to himself, then sent the same thought as a text message, adding his own emoji that looked suitably disappointed. He had been pleased to discover that his new habit of using emojis tended to disturb both his brothers and his boyfriend. 

He didn’t expect he would get a text back any time soon. Jaskier had another three hour appointment this afternoon, with Mr. X. Geralt didn’t know the man’s actual name, and knew better than to ask it, so he had just started referring to him as Mr.X. Jaskier said he liked that and it made him feel like a superhero or a secret agent, so somehow the name stuck. 

Mr. X was scheduled three times a week, three hours each time. He saw more of Geralt’s boyfriend than Geralt did some weeks. Which didn’t really sit well with him. It wasn’t his call to make though.

Geralt opened up the notes section of his phone. He had started another list after the discussion he and Jaskier had had about love languages. As soon as Geralt had gotten home that night, he had remembered where he had heard of the theory before. It was on a post it note tucked into Jaskier’s book on the Art of Cuddling. The younger man had obviously been researching it at some point, and it sounded like he really thought it was important. Between those notes, and the stuff he had found online, Geralt had come up with a plan.

Jaskier loved direct communication. He could be extremely blunt even, which Geralt appreciated, but sometimes that meant that he would miss the things that Jaskier was saying without actually using words. For Jaskier an extra long hug could mean “I missed you”, or a shoulder massage could say “I’m sorry you had a rough day.” His love language, as he had pointed out, was physical affection.

It had been a couple of weeks since their talk, and Geralt had been keeping a list. Each time Jaskier had done something that might be described as physically affectionate, Geralt would jot it down, and next to it he would write the translation. It was a pretty long list. 

At first he would second guess himself. Maybe Jaskier didn’t realize he was sitting so close that their legs would brush together? But the more Geralt observed the more obvious the patterns became, and the better he got at reading between the lines.

Then one day, while writing his notes after a date night, Geralt came to the realization that Jaskier wasn’t just using physical affection to show that he cared about him. He had been cooking more often, using the excuse that he was trying out the new meal prep craze, but Geralt was the one who ended up with homemade dinners sitting in his refrigerator, just waiting to be warmed up after a long day. When Geralt had gotten frustrated with the cable company, Jaskier had simply taken the phone away from him and gotten everything sorted out, even sweet talking the agent into a discount for the inconvenience. Jaskier had been using Geralt’s own language, acts of service.

After Geralt figured that out, he started keeping a list of his own, writing down things that he himself had done recently, along with their translations. Most of them had been acts of service, naturally.

Cutting the grass when the gardener was on vacation meant “I know how happy it makes you when your house looks nice.” Taking his car to get inspected was a way of saying “I want you to stay safe.”

It had actually been surprising to Geralt, once he started to write it all down. He hadn’t really considered any of what he was doing to be all that special. It was just instinct. He loved Jaskier, and wanted to make sure that he was taken care of.

At the bottom of his list was a much shorter, newer addition. If Jaskier could learn to speak his language, then he could try to learn Jaskier’s. Most of the stuff he had had to think about and plan out and there were a few that were still just things he wanted to try, but hadn’t found the right time yet.

Putting a hand on the small of Jaskier’s back as he led him to their table on a date night said “I’m with you.” 

Stretching out his legs under the table so they would tangle up with the younger man’s meant “I enjoy being close to you.”

Reaching out to hold his hand, instead of waiting for a hand to reach out to him was “I’m trying.”

It still wasn’t much, but it was a start. Geralt felt like he was back in ninth grade spanish, fumbling his way through unfamiliar pronunciations and verb conjugations. 

He scrolled through the list, trying to think of something new he could try, when a new text message popped up. It was an emoji of a smiley face with its tongue poking out.

“Had a sandwich too but it wasn’t as photogenic. Mr. X just took a break. Reading today.”

Jaskier’s texts while he was in the office were always short. He didn’t like the idea of a client seeing him on his phone, but sometimes he needed a minute to himself.

“Don’t forget your tea” Geralt typed back. 

When Jaskier had complained that reading out loud for hours on end made his throat hurt, Geralt had immediately gone out and bought a selection of teas, syrups and drops that were supposed to help. One of the teas, some weird herbal blend from the natural grocery store, seemed to work best, especially when combined with some honey.

He made sure that Jaskier always had some in stock now, even if it meant buying a new mason jar every time he went into that hipster hellhole, because he kept forgetting they didn’t believe in plastic bags, and he was expected to bring his own container every single time. He wasn’t even sure why it was legal for them to just sell tea by scooping it out of a huge bin.

“Thx. g2g.” was the quick response, and Geralt flipped back to his notes app, knowing he wouldn’t be hearing from Jaskier again for awhile. 

He supposed getting the tea could go on this list, couldn’t it? 

As he added it, Geralt had an even better idea. 

. . . .

If Jaskier was shocked to see Geralt waiting for him outside of his office, he didn’t show it, focusing instead on showing his client, the mysterious Mr.X, out the door and waiting for him to round the corner.

Geralt leaned over, opening the passenger side door, and Jaskier climbed in with a weary sigh, tipping over into Geralt’s chest. Geralt pulled him close and put his arms around him.

“I’m exhausted.” 

And he looked it to. His clothes, soft looking trousers and a simple shirt were wrinkled, and his face was paler than normal. His eyes didn’t seem to shine the same way. Even with the tea, his voice sounded strained.

“Hmm.” He wished the younger man wouldn’t push himself so hard, but It wasn’t Geralt’s place to say who Jaskier should keep as a client.

“You’re right.” Jaskier replied. “But he’s a good guy, and he just really needs someone right now. I know something has been going on with him, and this is the only way I can help. I like helping him, it’s just...draining. And some days are harder than others.”

“What can I do to help you?” Geralt asked. He didn’t want to just do something, and just make things worse. What he wanted to do was to take Jaskier home and make sure he had something to eat and got some rest. He wanted to hold on to him and never let him go again.

“This is good. Just let me fill up my tank.” Jaskier had explained that sometimes it felt like he was just being drained of all his energy, and when he hugged Geralt, he was building it back up. Geralt didn’t exactly understand the analogy, but he was happy it worked. For him, it was different. Stress and worry just built up inside him, and when he was with Jaskier, the younger man seemed to drain it all away with a touch.

If this was what Jaskier wanted, he would sit here all night.


	28. Chapter Twenty Eight

If it was up to Geralt, there would be a clause in the contract that said he never had to paint over red. It was a pain in the ass, and always took three times as long to cover up than any other color. But, it was a paying job, and with as often as the homeowners called them out to repaint the walls, it was worth the aggravation. It seemed like almost every year Morhen and Sons was out here covering up last season’s trendy new color.

He didn’t think mint green was going to be much of an improvement. At least Eskel was helping him with this one, which made the time go by faster.

“Any plans this weekend?” Eskel asked from his perch on top of the ladder. “I hear there’s some new goats at the zoo.”

Normally, the zoo was his usual backup plan for the weekends he had Ciri. Between all the cute animals in the petting area, and the gigantic monkey themed playground, there was always something there to entertain and exhaust an almost eight year old. But this weekend he already had something in mind.

“We’re planning to take Ciri to the science museum tomorrow. They’re having some kind of space camp thing, and letting kids build rockets.”

Eskel put down his brush and turned to look at his older brother. “We?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Jaskier and I are taking Ciri to the museum.” Geralt grunted, concentrating on the precise trim work he was trying to complete.

“That’s adorable.”

“Shut up.”

“No. Really.” Eskel started painting again, but did not, in fact, shut up. “I think it’s nice you’re doing stuff like that together. Does that mean things are getting more serious?”

Why couldn’t he go one day without having to talk about his feelings to someone? Geralt blamed Jaskier. He never had this problem before. 

“Maybe?” he answered, hesitantly, thinking back to his most recent list. There were still some things to work on, but overall...maybe? When Jakier had suggested the museum, Geralt hadn’t even thought about whether or not he should be planning a day trip with his boyfriend and his daughter. Honestly, he had just thought about whether or not there would be astronaut ice cream, and if he could sneak a few packs home without either of them noticing. 

They had also been spending more time together. Instead of going to the laundromat, Geralt had started taking his clothes over to Jaskier’s, doing his laundry while they did the meal prep for the week. And Jaskier had even started, very occasionally, joining him at the gym, but only if he went in the evenings. 

But Geralt still felt awkward sometimes, still struggling to show Jaskier he cared about him with physical affection. It had been easy to get into the habit of letting the younger man take what he needed, instead of offering it first. He was trying to get better though.

“Maybe” Eskel parroted back, a hint of exasperation in his voice. “What does that mean?”

Before Geralt could answer, his phone started to ring in his back pocket. Grateful for the distraction, he quickly wiped off his hands and pulled out the noisy device. 

“Huh.” he frowned when he saw the caller ID. 

“What?” Eskel asked, learning over as if he could see the screen from on top of the ladder.

“It’s the coffee shop.” He had added the shop to his contacts after the fifth or sixth time he had texted to place an order for Jaskier, but why would they be calling him? He answered, turning on the speakerphone so he could finish cleaning his hands.

“Hello?”

“Is this Geralt, Jaskier’s boyfriend?” a voice asked, sounding shaky, but familiar. He thought it might be the petite blonde barista that usually worked the evening shift.

“Yes.” He answered, sharing a quizzical look with Eskel.

“Oh thank god. Look, I don’t know what’s happening, and I can’t leave the shop because I’m the only one here, but there’s a police car at Jaskier’s office. An ambulance just showed up too.”

. . . .

Geralt didn’t even look at the speedometer, and had raced through a number of yellow lights to get downtown in record time, his heart in his throat. Priscilla, the barista, was still on the line, but there hadn’t been much she could tell him, other than the fact that a couple of EMTs had entered the office with a stretcher and hadn’t come out yet.

Eskel had quickly taken over at the client’s house, promising to make sure everything was in order there. He had also offered to “mobilize the troops” in his words, if Geralt needed help.  
All Geralt could focus on was getting to Jaskier.

He had been in another of his sessions with Mr.X, and Geralt was cursing himself for not sharing his reservations about that man earlier. Maybe he was a stalker, or some kind of serial killer, and Jaskier had been alone with him so much lately. Now there were cops involved.

An avalanche of what-ifs threatened to sweep him away, but he fought back the panic. He just needed to focus on getting to Jaskier.

One of the regular coffee shop customers, the guy who always brought his typewriter, was standing in the only empty parking space on the street, and started flagging Geralt down. He quickly stepped back onto the sidewalk, letting Geralt pull his truck in.

“He’s okay.” The man called out, as Geralt jumped from the truck. “Something happened to his client. But he’s okay.” The man looked shaken as well, clutching his coffee cup like a life preserver. Geralt spared him a short nod of thanks before running across the street.

Jaskier was sitting on the bench, a thin silvery blanket wrapped around his shoulders, staring blankly at the ground. A policewoman was sitting next to him, writing something down in a small notepad. As Geralt approached, the office doors swung open, and two EMTs quickly stepped out, a loaded stretcher between them. There was a body, buried under a mass of wires, tubes and machinery. They quickly loaded the stretcher into the back of the ambulance, and it was gone, nearly before Geralt could make it to Jaskier’s side.

Without hesitation Geralt thumped down heavily on Jaskier’s free side, pulling him into a tight hug. Jaskier fell against his chest with a sob, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist and hiding his face against Geralt’s shoulder. The smaller body was shaking so hard that Geralt was surprised he couldn’t hear bones rattle.

“I’m his partner.” He explained to the cop, who looked slightly bewildered at his sudden appearance. “Are you okay?” he asked the younger man, running a hand over the back of his head.

Jaskier sniffed and nodded, but didn’t seem willing to let go. 

“What happened?” He asked, looking at the woman.

“We’re not sure, exactly, Mr….?”

“Morhen. Geralt Morhen.”

She jotted down a quick note on her pad.

“We received a call that Mr. Pankratz’s, uh, client, wasn’t breathing. He did CPR until we got here. Unfortunately that’s about all we know at the moment. My partner’s inside securing the scene and I’ve been trying to get a statement but, well, do you think you could help me with that?” 

Geralt focused on the younger man in his arms. Jaskier was trembling, and his breathing was shaky, but he was obviously trying to calm it down, his chest rising and falling deliberately. He rubbed at Jaskier’s back, breathing steadily so that Jaskier had a baseline to work with. Slowly, their breaths started to sync up and Jaskier’s grip loosened slightly.

“If you can just give him a second, I think he’ll be able to talk to you.” he answered for his partner. “What do you mean secure the scene?”

“It’s just standard procedure until we have more information. It might have been an underlying medical condition, or a stroke or something, but we need to preserve any potential evidence, just in case.”

In case of what? Jaskier murdering someone? And then calling the cops on himself?

Geralt decided that asking that particular question would be a really bad idea at the moment.

“He’ll be able to go in, get his wallet or keys, whatever he needs.” the policewoman continued. “Mr. Pankratz, uh, Jaskier? Do you think you could answer some questions for me now?”

Jaskier sniffed, and rubbed his nose against Geralt’s collar before nodding. He sat up a little straighter, but stayed in the circle of Geralt’s arms. “Of course. Sorry, I’m just kind of..”

He trailed off, as if not sure how to finish the sentence.

“It’s okay. Can you tell me what happened?” she asked gently, pen poised against paper.

“Mr. Anderson, my client, came in about three hours ago. He had fallen asleep, about..an hour ago? Maybe. He does that a lot so I wasn’t really concerned.”

“I’m sorry. Exactly what type of business is this?” 

“Oh.” Jaskier seemed thrown off by the question. “I’m a professional cuddler. Mostly he just lay with his head in my lap and I would read to him.”

If the policewoman was surprised she didn’t show it. She made a small noise, encouraging Jaskier to continue.

“I usually just wake him up at the end of a session, but this time, he just wouldn’t. He was cold and he wasn’t breathing, so I called 911. They, uhm, they had me put him on the floor and then they told me how to do chest compressions and rescue breathing. I did that until I had to come unlock the door, then your partner took over, and you brought me out here. Jonathan, uh, the guy with the coffee, came over, but you saw that. And then Geralt came. That’s..pretty much it, I think.” his explanation was halting, and slightly disjointed, but no one could blame him.

Geralt couldn’t even imagine what it must have been like for Jaskier. And it was worrying how calm the younger man seemed, considering what he had just been through.

“Was Mr. Anderson acting oddly? Did he seem sick or disoriented when he came in? In any sort of distress?”

Jaskier seemed to be struggling to think back. “No. He was tired and he seemed kind of under the weather. But he always does. Everything seemed fine. He fell asleep pretty quickly. I’m not sure how long he was... how long he hadn’t been breathing. But he was cold and I couldn’t wake him up.”

“That’s okay. Do you know anything about him, where he lives, or if he has relatives?”

“Only what’s on his driver’s license. His first name was Andrew. But he never talked about anything personal. Just a lot of small talk about the latest book he read. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I think that’s about it for now. I just need to get your contact information and then you can go. We might need to talk with you again later and we’ll let you know when it’s okay to come back to your office, but you don’t have to stay here right now.” she turned to Geralt. “I’m assuming you’ll be with him?”

“Of course.” Geralt said. “I’m his partner. I can take care of whatever you need.” 

She nodded, and then focused her attention back on Jaskier. “Will you be okay here for a minute while Geralt and I go get your stuff and wrap up some details?”

Jaskier looked a little lost. Geralt tightened his hold for a brief second.

“Is it okay if I go into your office? I’ll prop the door open, so I’ll be able to hear you and I’ll be right back.”

“Uhm...Yeah, I guess that’s okay.” the younger man was looking up at him quizzically.

“I’ll be right back” Geralt repeated and made sure he got another nod that told him Jaskier had understood before he let go.

The office itself seemed almost normal. A few chairs had been shoved out of the way to make room for the stretcher, and a table was tipped over. Geralt glanced into the other room. The couch had been dragged halfway across the room and discarded wrappers were scattered everywhere. Probably from all the medical supplies. Another officer was standing in the doorway between the two rooms. 

Geralt headed towards the small desk near the back of the waiting room. Jaskier always made it a point to keep all of his personal stuff there. While the policewoman talked quietly to her partner, Geralt focused on gathering up everything Jaskier might need as quickly as possible. Phone, keys and datebook all went into the canvas messenger bag, and he checked to make sure that the wallet was in there as well. That done, he grabbed one of Jaskier’s business cards, as well as one of his. He remembered when the younger man had asked for a stack, in case any of his clients needed repair work done. 

“Look, I’ll be honest” the new cop, a taller man who looked to be in his mid fifties, said, when Geralt joined them. “It was probably just natural causes. Nothing the kid could have done. Officially, my advice is to stay in town until this all gets cleared up though.” 

Once Geralt handed the business cards to the police woman, the man handed him a stack of business cards of his own. “Those are ours, and one for a local counseling center. If he’s having a hard time with this, they’ll be able to help”

“He was pretty shocky when we got here.” The woman added. “Take him home, make sure he gets some rest. If he starts acting more disoriented, or has a panic attack, passes out, anything you don’t think you can handle, take him to urgent care. But, just keep an eye on him, keep him warm and he should be okay.”

“Of course.” Geralt said. “Mr.X..uh Mr. Anderson, will he make it?”

The look on their faces told him all he needed to know.

Fuck.

Not knowing what else to do he slung the messenger bag over his shoulder and went back outside. Typewriter guy, Jonathan, apparently, was sitting with Jaskier, holding one of his hands, and encouraging him to take little sips out of a water bottle that must have come from the coffee shop. He smiled weakly at Geralt and patted Jaskier’s arm before giving up his spot.

“Thanks.” Geralt muttered, sitting back down and gathering Jaskier up against him again. 

“Of course.” Jonathan said. “Jaskier has my number. If you guys need anything just call okay? I’ll go and let everyone else know he’s alright.”

Geralt just grunted, trying at least to make it sound appreciative. He should have known Jaskier would have made friends there. He probably needed to let Eskel know what was going on as well. Keeping one arm around Jaskier he shot off a quick text, reassuring his brother that Jaskier wasn’t hurt or in trouble. He also promised to call once he could.

“Are you ready to leave?” He asked, tucking his phone into the bag and rubbing Jaskier’s back soothingly. He frowned and laid a hand against Jaskier’s cheek, not liking how cool the skin felt. Was it just the cold air? 

“God yes.” Jaskier said, though he didn’t move.

“Okay. I’m going to take you to my place for now. Do you need to stop by your house for anything?” Jaskier already had a few changes of clothes, and a shelf full of toiletries at Geralt’s apartment, but he might want his lute or guitar or something.

“No. I just want to go home.” 

“Alright. We can stay at your house instead.”

Jaskier paused, then pulled back a little, wiping at his eyes. “No. I mean. You’re my home.” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, but something he had just realized. “Not my house. Not your apartment. It doesn’t matter which place we stay at. It’s you.”

Geralt, for the third time in his life, felt as if the universe was slotting into place. The first time had been holding Ciri in the delivery room. The second had been a year ago, when Jaskier had asked Geralt to trust him, and sat beside him on the couch. And now.

“I just want to go home, Geralt.” Jaskier repeated.

And he understood. Home meant Jaskier.

“Let’s go home then.” Geralt agreed.


	29. Chapter Twenty Nine

Geralt lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, Jaskier’s head a heavy, reassuring weight on his chest. The younger man was stretched out against his side andhis arm was slung over Geralt’s waist, their legs tangled together beneath the comforter. Geralt’s hands were in Jaskier’s hair, continuously carding through the brunette strands or petting them smooth again. Even Roach was curled up on the pillow beside them, not close enough to touch, but seeming to offer her own brand of comfort, occasionally batting her koala into the back of Jaskier’s head.

Jaskier was dozing, off and on, as he had been for the last two days. Friday night had been the worst. Once he had been settled into the apartment and fed a light supper of reheated soup, the reality of the situation had finally seemed to sink in, bringing with it deep, heart wrenching, sobs. Geralt had simply held on, rocking the younger man and letting him cry until he wore himself out. There hadn’t been any words that could have made things better.

Eventually Jaskier had fallen asleep, too tired to keep his eyes open, but his sleep hadn’t been restful. He tossed and turned, frequently being startled awake by some nightmare. After the third one, when Jaskier had woken up screaming, and Geralt hadn’t been able to calm him back down, Geralt had given him a benadryl, with the reasoning that a drugged sleep was better than none. 

While he had slept Geralt had called Eskel, Lambert and Yennefer, managing to get them all on a conference call at the same time. They had all been worried, and Yennefer had decided to cancel a client meeting so that she could keep Ciri that weekend, but Geralt had felt guilty. His daughter had been looking forward to the museum trip, constantly sending him pictures of planets or questions about how astronauts lived in space. Hearing this, Lambert and Eskel had declared that they were going to steal Ciri for the weekend, so she could have some fun with her uncles without having to worry about her boring old dad making her eat vegetables and go to bed at a reasonable hour. Geralt was grateful. 

Yennefer, ever the lawyer, had given him some advice on how to handle the police, and put herself on pro-bono retainer in case they had any problems, though she had reassured Geralt that nobody would look at Jaskier’s “little chipmunk face” and think that he had concocted some nefarious scheme to murder his best paying client. She also sent several articles on dealing with shock, and offered to very strongly suggest to one of her suitors, a mildly famous surgeon, that he should make a house call if Geralt thought it was necessary.

When Jaskier woke up, he was calmer, and more subdued. He managed a little toast and a few bites of eggs before falling into a more natural and restful sleep. Geralt stayed close by, laying down with him, or sitting propped up against the headboard, watching TV. Saturday had passed by in almost near silence, broken only by updates to and from his family and a call in the evening from a detective handling the case. Mr. Anderson had died of natural causes, just as the cop on the scene had suggested, and as far as they were concerned the case was closed. While it wasn’t directly stated, it was heavily implied that the man had been dead long before the ambulance had even arrived, and there really hadn’t been anything Jaskier could have done to either prevent the death, or save his client.

Geralt wasn’t sure if that made either himself or Jaskier feel better. While Jaskier had taken the news as well as could be expected, he hadn’t wanted to discuss it, burying his face in Geralt’s shoulder and staying there until he fell asleep again.

Sunday morning was a little better. Jaskier had more of an appetite, and even showered and shaved before bundling up on the couch, dressed in Geralt’s old paint shirt and a pair of baggy sweatpants that neither of them could actually remember who had originally owned. They watched old movies all day, taking a break when Jaskier felt like talking, or just simply sitting together when he didn’t. 

Geralt had woken up from several naps to find Jaskier hovering over him, one hand next to his mouth, checking to see if he was breathing, while the other hand was wrapped tightly around his wrist, long fingers digging into his pulse point as if to reassure the younger man that his partner was still alive.

By Sunday afternoon, Jaskier had rallied enough to send out a brief email to his clients, cancelling appointments for the next few weeks in a vague but apologetic way that didn’t leave room for nosy questions. He had even contacted Triss to let her know she might have some new clients for awhile, and they had ended up talking on the phone for quite some time. 

Geralt didn’t know the exact details of that discussion, since Jaskier had briefly commandeered Ciri’s room so that he could have a private place to talk. When the younger man had reappeared, he seemed more at ease, which is all that mattered to Geralt. They had cooked dinner together, and decided to call it an early night.

Now, as Geralt ran his fingers through Jaskier’s hair, he felt oddly at peace. Maybe it was his own tiredness, or the calm before the storm. There was no way of telling, and no use borrowing trouble. The important thing was that Jaskier was here, safe, and Geralt would be able to help him, however he needed.

Against his chest, Jaskier stirred a little, rubbing his face against Geralt’s chest before yawning and stretching, then settling back down.

“-time is it?” Jaskier mumbled.

“About eight.” Geralt answered, moving his hand lower, rubbing between Jaskier’s shoulder blades.

“AM or PM?” 

“Eight in the evening” he clarified.

“Ugh. My sleep schedule is going to be so messed up” 

“You can go back to sleep. Or I can turn on the TV if you want.”

“No. I’m fine.” Jaskier replied, fiddling with the hem of the shirt Geralt was wearing.

“Hmm.” Geralt tried not to sound doubtful, but it was difficult.

“Okay. I’m not fine, And I’m going to need just boatloads of therapy, and I need to talk about it eventually, but that is a problem for Monday morning Jaskier, not Sunday evening Jaskier. Sunday evening Jaskier just wants to lay here and get petted like a big cat for the next few hours.”

“That sounds good.” It was an easy enough request. Geralt had been doing that most of the weekend anyway. He had a feeling he might be doing mostly that for the next few days.

“Have you talked to Ciri? She enjoy her weekend?”

“She sent some pictures, and a few text messages.” he replied. Eskel had also sent some updates, mostly amazement at exactly how much a seven year old could eat without throwing up.

“You haven’t called her?” Jaskier asked, incredulously.

“I’ve had more important things to think about.”

“Yeah. No. Get up. You’re calling your daughter.” Jaskier pushed himself up, and then pulled at Geralt until he was sitting against the headboard with him.

“She’s probably already on the way back to her mom's,” Geralt protested, but Jaskier was already dialing Ciri’s phone number. They liked sending each other silly pictures, or in Ciri’s case, gross things she found, which this weekend had included an elephant pooping, and some snot colored “space slime”.

Jaskier put the phone on speaker and set it between them. 

“Hi, Jaskier! Are you feeling better? Uncle Eskel said you couldn’t go to space camp because you weren’t feeling good. Did you throw up?” Ciri answered the phone, talking a mile a minute, note even waiting for a hello. 

Geralt chuckled at the rapid fire questions. Someone was obviously still a little wired.

“Hello Princess. I’ve got your dad on the phone too. Say hi to him.”

“Hi dad. Did Jaskier throw up?”

“No, I didn’t. And yes I’m feeling better.” Jaskier answered for himself. “Thank you for asking. How did you enjoy your weekend with your uncles?”

“It was awesome!” Ciri nearly yelled through the phone. “We went to space camp and the zoo. Uncle Lambert almost got us thrown out though because a goat bit him on the butt and he said a lot of bad words. A lot. Eskel had to promise to wash his mouth out with soap. And I made a rocket, but it just kind of went ‘pbbt’ and fell over. And-”

Geralt settled his arm over Jaskier as the younger man leaned in, laying his head on Geralt’s shoulder, letting Ciri’s excited ramblings wash over them, occasionally encouraging her with a “wow” or a “really?” that set her off on another tangent.

Jaskier was smiling down at the phone, and Geralt could feel him relaxing against his side. He turned so he could press a kiss to the top of Jaskier’s head. A hand took his own, and squeezed. 

Geralt wasn’t sure what was going to happen next, the aftermath of Friday, or his and Jaskier’s relationship, or their future. But he knew that they would be facing it together. The rest wasn’t important. 

“And then” Ciri said, “Uncle Eskel took us to a bar and we got tattoos!” 

“Sweetheart, is Uncle Eskel driving?” Geralt asked, calmly.

“Nuh uh”

“Hand the phone over to him please.”

There was some scuffling in the background before another voice came on the line

“First of all.” Eskel protested “It was a root beer bar at the museum! They had ten different types. And the tattoos will wash off in a week. Besides I wasn’t the one that almost got us banned from the petting zoo.”

In the background, Lambert could be heard loudly defending himself and clearly trying to wrestle the phone away from his brother.

Jaskier was trying to hold in his laughter, giggling against Geralt’s shoulder.

“I’m siding with the goat.” He said. “I’ve wanted to bite him a few times too.” 

“I heard that!” Lambert yelled.

Geralt just laughed, and buried his face in Jaskier’s hair.


	30. Chapter Thirty

Geralt carefully wrapped the last candle in bubble wrap before adding it to the full box. He hadn’t realized, until he started packing up Jaskier’s office, just how many scented candles there actually were squirreled away around the place. Almost as many blankets and throw pillows, but those were already bagged up and stored safely away at the house. 

It had been a week since what Jaskier had started referring to it as “the incident”, and in some ways it had been hectic, in other ways it had seemed to crawl by. There had been a couple of therapy sessions, one of which Jaskier was at now, and several very long, very deep conversations.

Geralt had taken the week off work, brooking no argument from the younger man. He could do a lot of the administrative work from his laptop anyway, and Vesemir had come into town, very conveniently having decided that he wanted to spend some time around the garage right then, getting his nose back into everything and tagging along on a few odd jobs that Geralt would usually have handled.

It gave Geralt the time to make sure that Jaskier got to his therapy sessions okay, that he ate and slept and took care of himself. And he also had to clean out Jaskier’s office.

The younger man had come out of his first therapy session, looking exhausted, but more settled. He had two more sessions over the course of the week, and then he would be able to start spacing them further apart. The counselor that the policeman had suggested had turned out to be a huge help to the younger man.

Jaskier couldn’t go back to work yet, he had told Geralt, and he didn’t think he could ever go back into the cuddle den again. Even just thinking about it had him picturing his client, dying on the big overstuffed couch, his head in Jaskier’s lap.

They had talked it over while sitting in bed, their new nightly routine, and Geralt had come up with a solution. 

“Always the practical one.” Jaskier had sighed, fondly.

The obvious thing to do was to gut the office. New paint, new furniture. He had even figured out a way to rearrange everything, putting up an extra wall to give Jaskier an actual office. By the time he was done, no one would ever be able to guess it was the same building.

Jaskier had seemed to like the idea, and with some prodding had begun to put together a mood board, with color samples and inspirational pictures. Where the old office had been a rather modern, cozy looking space, just this side of farmhouse chic, the new one was hardwood floors, faux exposed brick, and calming greys. A little hipster maybe, but Geralt wouldn’t complain, much.

There was of course, the issue on how it would all be paid for. A perk of being a somewhat in demand and exclusive professional cuddler meant that Jaskier wasn’t exactly strapped for cash, but even he wouldn’t be able to completely remodel an entire office without batting an eye. He had just bought a house, been making pricey renovations, and lost a pretty significant income stream for the foreseeable future. Could you even get a business loan for a cuddle den?

And what if Jaskier decided he could never go back?

Geralt had tried to be helpful, urging him to just take it a day at a time. The first step was getting rid of the old, which didn’t cost a thing except time. While Jaskier was in therapy, or spending some time at the coffee shop, Geralt was cleaning out his old office.

Eskel and Lambert had dove right into the project as well, hauling off furniture to the thrift store, and pulling up old carpet in the evenings when they got off work. Some of the nicer things Eskel had even sold to a client who needed to furnish an apartment quickly, and who apparently wasn’t picky about their couch’s sordid history. Lambert had managed to hunt down some flooring that had been left over from a job, and, conveniently, it had come out to almost exactly the same price as the furniture with an open box discount.

Geralt had had his own conversations with his brothers, and they had been supportive, in their way, of him, of Jaskier, and of him and Jaskier as a couple. He had let them get all of the teasing out of their system as they worked. They had been nice to Jaskier when they saw him, so he figured his brothers deserved someone to pick on.

In the past it would have bothered him. He would have been second guessing his relationship, or worrying about what sort of feelings and actions were appropriate. None of that seemed really important now. He had more important things to think about. Like the fact that once he finished packing up these boxes, he needed to go pick up a ridiculously pink iced coffee monstrosity, and then go pick up his boyfriend. And then...then they were going to sit on the couch, watch terrible movies, and cuddle.


	31. Chapter Thirty One

“Mr. Anderson’s lawyer got in touch with me today.” Jaskier mentioned, trying and failing to sound casual. It was Monday again, and the two of them were relaxing on the couch, waiting for dinner to finish cooking. Geralt had his feet propped up in Jaskier’s lap, and the younger man had been rubbing them.

“You should have called me. I could have come home.” Geralt had been uncertain about returning to work, but Jaskier had assured him it would be okay. And they had kept in touch, through text messages and a brief conversation at lunch. But Jaskier hadn’t said anything earlier, and had waited for Geralt to sit down and get comfortable. He wondered why the younger man seemed hesitant to bring it up. 

“It’s fine. He just mentioned that some ah..stuff was left for me, and wanted to know when he could deliver it. I honestly have no clue what he’s talking about, but he might be stopping by tonight or tomorrow. I hope you don’t mind that I told him to come here.”

Was that what had been worrying Jaskier? The younger man had been practically living in the apartment for the past week, except for the occasional trips to his own house to do laundry or rescue some food from the refrigerator. They hadn’t actually talked about it in detail, which, looking back probably was an oversight.

“This is as much your home as it is mine. I want you to feel comfortable being here. Living here, if that’s what you want.” Geralt said, making sure that Jaskier could hear the truth in his words. “You already took over half of my closet” he added teasingly. “And you have a key.”

“Oh.” Jaskier tapped out a rhythm against Geralt’s ankle, distractedly. “You know, I never changed the code on my door lock, after you gave me back your key to the house. Did you notice that?” the younger man glanced over at him.

Geralt actually had to think about it. He remembered giving back the key, during their pseudo-break up, and he remembered, about a week after making amends with Jaskier letting himself into the house early one morning, punching in one code to open the door, and another to shut off the alarm, but he hadn’t actually thought about the significance of it.

“Hmm.” 

“I know. It was a very sweet gesture on my part. Very romantic.” It was Jaskier’s turn to tease now, and he drug a fingernail lightly up the sole of Geralt’s foot, causing the older man to squirm and kick out reflexively.

“Well, since we’re having this talk,” Jaskier continued, going back to rubbing Geralt’s feet soothingly. “My home is your home as well. Especially that bathtub. My god, you have got to try that bathtub. It’s like heaven. You can even use my bubble bath. If..If you want to live with me one day I’d like that, too.”

“My rent is up in two months.” Geralt said simply.

Jaskier blinked, and then smiled. “Oh.”

“Hmm.”

. . . .

Mr. Anderson’s lawyer, a round, sweaty looking gentleman arrived a few hours later, wheeling a handcart full of boxes behind him and apologizing profusely for the late hour. Geralt had merely shrugged and started to unload the heavy boxes, keeping one eye on Jaskier as he did so. Each box had a different label. “Poetry”, “History”, and “Cooking”, among others.

“My client spoke very highly of you”, the lawyer said to Jaskier, handing over a small envelope. “I’m sorry to hear about what happened. He never would have wanted you to go through that.”

Jaskier remained uncharacteristically quiet, barely saying a word or two as the lawyer stumbled his way around a few minutes of awkward small talk. He had shot Geralt increasingly desperate looks, until Geralt finally took pity on him, thanked him on Jaskier’s behalf, and offered the expected platitudes before hinting politely that it really was late. The lawyer had gratefully taken the excuse and was halfway to his car before Geralt could shut the door.

“He left me his library.” Jaskier said quietly. “Or some of it at least. He told me that he had thousands of books.” He had opened up one box and was holding a small, leather, and very old looking volume. “This one’s Chaucer. I remember him reading some of it in the original Middle English. It sounded so strange.”

The younger man sunk down to the floor, surrounded by the boxes, clutching both the book and letter tightly. Geralt sat down next to him, close enough that their arms brushed. “Why would he leave me anything though?” Jaskier asked.

Geralt had never had more than fleeting glimpses of the man as he came or left the office, and only second hand accounts of a few innocuous conversations. He had a feeling Jaskier didn’t know much about him outside of their time together, which meant he knew even less.

“Do you want me to read the letter first?” He offered. It might be best to do that, just in case there were any awful surprises.

Jaskier shook his head, already running his thumbnail under the tape holding the envelope closed, and pulling out a sheet of paper. He read it silently to himself, and Geralt resisted the urge to try and see what it said, looking instead at the opened box. Lots of poetry and plays, ranging from Shakespere to Maya Angelou. He recognized a Shel Silverstein book poking out from one corner.

Once Jaskier was done with the letter he laid it aside and pulled another slip of paper out of the envelope, glancing at it and handing it over to Geralt. It was a check. A very large check. 

“Fuck”. 

Jaskier let out a watery laugh and climbed into Geralt’s lap. Geralt hugged him tightly to his chest.

“He said he didn’t have anyone else to leave it to, so he split everything up between me and the library. Apparently he picked out the books he thought I would like and gave them the rest. Geralt, he knew he was dying. It doesn’t say what it was, just that he stopped the treatment, because he wanted to enjoy the time he had left.”

Fuck.

“And he..thanked me, for spending that time with him.” 

Geralt picked up the letter, giving Jaskier time to object, and read it over, keeping one arm around Jaskier. 

It wasn’t very long, mentioning what Jaskier had just told him. Apparently that check was just to tide him over until the rest of the estate could be settled, but there was a trust in Jaskier’s name somewhere with quite a few more commas and zeros. The letter went on to reference a few specific conversations that the two must have had, along with some suggested reading and hopes for Jaskier’s happiness in the future. It painted a picture of a very lonely man, with no family or close friends, that had found some type of peace in being with Jaskier. Geralt could understand that feeling at least.

“I don’t get it.” Jaskier said, turning the book over in his hands. “I was just somebody he was paying to cuddle him and read books out loud. He could have gotten that from a body pillow and an audible account”

“You’re more than that.” Geralt reminded him, firmly but gently. “The first day I met you, you said you were in this business because you like helping people. It sounds like you helped him a lot.”

“I didn’t even know he was sick. Maybe if I had known I could have convinced him to go to treatments, or seen a therapist or, I don’t know, I could have done something.”

“You did do something. You gave him comfort. You kept him from being alone. Jaskier, he knew what was happening, and he made his choice. None of that is on you. It’s not your fault. What he decided he needed was someone to be there with him at the end, someone who offered a human connection without expecting anything in return.”

Jaskier didn’t argue, but he also didn’t seem completely convinced.

“And you can’t tell me he was just a client.” Geralt continued. “Or that it was just about the money. You care about everyone who comes into your office. And you’ve made a difference for all of them.”

“You really think that?” Jaskier said, picking up the letter, then putting it back down again, fingers twitching anxiously. Geralt grabbed his hand, stilling the nervous tic.

“You changed my life. That very first session. If you hadn’t cared you would have let me run right out the door the minute you realized what was going on. But you gave me a beer and talked to me, convinced me to trust you. It had been years since I let anyone get close to me, and you tore that all down in an hour. I don’t know what I would do without you now.”

Words didn’t come easy to Geralt, the same as physical affection. But this past year had shown him how important both were. He had thought he was doing fine on his own, but he had been so touch starved that a simple hug from a caring stranger had nearly broken him. He hadn’t been able to talk about his feelings at all, or even ask for what he needed.

Jaskier was listening to him now.

“You reminded me that I needed to be loved.” He said, honestly, running his free hand up and down Jaskier’s arm. “And you gave it to me. You showed me it was okay to love someone, and taught me how to give it to you. I’ll always be grateful for the time I have with you, and I think he felt the same way. Jaskier, you helped him, and this was his way of letting you know.”

He felt the younger man take a deep breath against his chest, before Jaskier shifted to press a light kiss on his cheek. 

“Thank you.” Jaskier murmured. He picked up the book and set it back in the box carefully, along with the letter.

Nothing else really needed to be said.


	32. Chapter Thirty Two

Geralt let himself into the old Victorian house, tossing his keys onto the small entryway table. He had stopped thinking of it as Jaskier’s house about the time he started bringing boxes of his stuff over. It had been easier to pack up a few things at a time, rather than waiting until his lease was up and trying to get everything out at once.

Jaskier spent his days here now that Geralt had gone back to work full time, composing or working on his ASMR videos, or simply taking naps in whatever sunny window seemed to be the most inviting. They had developed a routine of sorts. Geralt would swing by after work and pick the younger man up on his way back to the apartment. 

Well, pick up Jaskier and Roach. The touchy little beast had decided she preferred the Victorian house to the apartment. Each morning Geralt would have to set her carrier out for her, and each evening Jaskier would have to try and lure her back into it with treats. Geralt wasn’t too happy with the fact that Roach seemed to listen to Jaskier better than she did him.

Maybe she liked Jaskier better.

Geralt followed the sound of soft lute music up to their bedroom. He approached the room quietly, pausing for a minute to just take in the sight.

A tall beautiful woman with flaming red hair was sprawled out on her stomach on the bed, her chin propped up on her fist as she read a book. Jaskier was lying on his back, casually using the swell of her ass as a pillow, while strumming on his lute. Roach was sitting nearby, occasionally batting at a ribbon that the younger man had tied to the neck of the instrument.

“It’s a good thing I’m not jealous,” Geralt teased, announcing his presence. “Hello, Triss.”

Triss lifted a hand in greeting and turned a page in her book. 

Jaskier just grinned and set his lute aside, lifting his arms expectantly, making grabby motions with his hands.

“No.” Geralt said firmly, stripping off his coat and laying it neatly over his bag. “Three to a bed is at least one too many. If you want a hug you can come get one.”

“You’re no fun.” Jaskier complained but hauled himself off of the bed and wrapped his arms around Geralt. “Oh, you’re warm. This is nice.”

Geralt returned the hug and dropped a kiss on the top of Jaskier’s head.  
Jaskier just held out for a brief moment, breathing in deeply. Which couldn’t have been very pleasant. The afternoon had been spent wrestling with a water heater in a very cramped and poorly ventilated closet. Geralt felt sweaty and filthy, and couldn’t have smelled much better, but the younger man didn’t seem to mind. 

“Let me go get the clothes out of the dryer,” Jaskier said, pulling away. “And then I’ll be ready to leave. Come on Roachy, let’s go find your treats.”

The large black cat jumped down, following Jaskier into the bathroom, just slowly enough to make the point that she was heading in that direction because she wanted to, not because a human had given her a command, as if she were some type of animal.

Free of the weight on her back, Triss rolled over, straightening out her clothes and started to gather her things.

“Everything okay?” Geralt asked, keeping his voice low. The dryer was in the bathroom, and Jaskier had to shut the door to be able to use it, but he was still close enough that he might be able to hear them.

“I was just in the area and thought I would drop in.” Triss said. “I know you’re worried, but he’s doing alright. Just keeping his cuddle tank topped up.”

“Hmm.” He still hated the ridiculous phrases those two could come up with.

This wasn’t the first time he had come home to find his boyfriend snuggled up with the only other person Geralt had ever paid to cuddle with, and after the initial awkwardness he had to admit it was a pretty good arrangement. Jaskier had known Triss for years, she in fact had been the one to get him started as a professional cuddler. So she could understand what Jaskier had gone through better than he could ever hope to. It also made Geralt feel better knowing that there was someone nearby while he was at work. But, 

Jaskier might have called her to come over because something was wrong.

“I got him to eat breakfast when I got here, and he’s spent all day figuring out how to play “Somebody to Love” like a medieval bard, so you know he’s feeling better.” Triss said, making her voice a little louder than strictly necessary. “Do not say yes if he asks if you want to hear it. I mean, obviously he’ll play it anyway, but you shouldn’t encourage him. It’s weird and creepy.”

From the sound of it, he would probably have to agree.

“I heard that!” Jaskier yelled through the door.

“You’re looking better too. Much less grumpy.” Triss continued with a grin, back to her normal volume.”I’m glad to see both of you finally got your shit together. He needs someone like you right now. ” 

Jaskier had confessed to Geralt that he and Triss had had several long conversations, both before, during, and after the quasi-breakup. Most of it, the younger man had assured him, had been her shouting at him for being an idiot. Geralt had enough details to know that, other than her opinions on their professionalism, she was generally supportive of them.

“Young love suits you.” She declared, patting Geralt’s hand, and giving a delighted laugh when he scowled.

“Don’t tease him, or I won’t let you borrow that book.” Jaskier warned, waltzing back into the room with Roach stuffed into her cat carrier. “I shouldn’t let you borrow it anyway, you thief.”

Triss clutched the old leather tome, obviously one of Mr. Anderson’s, to her chest in mock outrage. “Name one book I never returned!”

“Easy Edibles” Jaskier shot back, immediately.

“I was holding that for you so you wouldn’t get kicked out of your dorm!” 

“But I never got it back!” Jaskier waved his arms wildly to prove his point.

“You didn’t have a kitchen then and you don’t even use pot anymore!” Triss argued.

Geralt took the cat carrier before Roach could get sea sick. “I’m not hearing this conversation.” he said. After all, he needed to be able to plead ignorance if Yennefer questioned him about any of Jaskier’s bad habits.

“Okay. What about The Colour of Magic?” 

“I dropped it in the pool, and you told me not to worry about it.”

“Right. I forgot that.” Jaskier tapped his finger against his chin, thinking.”Oh! Oh-ho. I’ve got you now.” He practically cackled with glee. “The Art of Cuddling. I loaned you my personal copy, with all of my annotations and meticulous research and you absconded with it. You’ve had it forever! And I even gave you your own copy so you had no excuse.”

Triss crossed her arms. “I gave that back months ago.”

“No you didn’t!” Jaskier stomped his foot. 

“Yes I did!”

“Did not.”

“Did too.” 

“Not.”

“Too.”

“Not.”

“Well, I gave it to your boyfriend, and that counts.” Triss mock pouted.

“That does not coun- wait, you did what?” Though Jaskier was asking Triss the question, he had spun around to look at Geralt.

The older man had taken the opportunity, while they were arguing like children, to set Roach down and dig through his bag. Sheepishly he held up the book that he had been carrying around since meeting with the other cuddler. It was still bristing with scraps of paper and yellow post its, but now there were some blue and green post its as well, Geralt’s own bits of research added to the mess. 

“I wasn’t finished with it yet.” he said defensively. 

Jaskier took the book carefully, thumbing through it and looking at Geralt’s neatly written notes stuck next to his messier scrawls. His eyes were suddenly, suspiciously, damp.

“Oh dear.” Triss said, glancing at her bare wrist and sighing dramatically. “Look at the time. Must leave, or I’ll miss my bus.”

“You drove.” Jaskier muttered. Triss just smiled and kissed him on the cheek, then snatched up another two books that had been sitting on the bed and raced out of the bedroom with her prizes. “Bye! Be good!” She yelled over her shoulder, the front door slamming shut in her wake.

Jaskier was studying a receipt that Geralt had been using as a bookmark. It just happened to be the receipt from their first date. It had been convenient at the time. Geralt resisted the urge to snatch the book back. Technically, it did actually belong to the younger man. After flipping through a few more pages, Jaskier seemed satisfied and handed it back. Geralt immediately returned it to the safety of his bag. 

“We should start a book club.” Jaskier suggested impishly, trying to covertly wipe at his eyes.

“Hmm”

“I’m dying to hear your thoughts about it.”

Another grunt from Geralt.

“We’ll do it properly. Coffee. The whole works.”

“Go ahead and take the laundry to the truck.” Geralt suggested, giving Jaskier a little shove. “I’ll be right down.” 

He waited until he could hear the younger man clomping down the stairs before he pulled out his phone. The steakhouse could probably accommodate a call in order for them to take home if he promised a big enough tip, and the coffee shop would definitely be able to put together some pastries. 

There was even a clean thermos in the truck, so he could get a weird latte for Jaskier to have after dinner. You needed coffee for a proper book club after all, according to his boyfriend.

. . . .

Geralt sat on the floor in front of the couch, freshly showered, stomach full of steak and chocolate danishes. Behind him, knees bracketing the older man’s shoulders, Jaskier was concentrating on braiding a lock of long, white, and still damp, hair, before twisting it into a small bun and pinning it to Geralt’s scalp. There were already a dozen other little buns dotting his head.

“This is going to look ridiculous.” he muttered. “And I’m not sleeping in them.”

“You are.” Jaskier argued around a mouth full of bobby pins. “Otherwise the waves won’t set. You’ll look like a fancy french aristocrat in the morning and Ciri will love it.”

Geralt sighed. Trust Jaskier to weaponize his daughter. And while it was true that Ciri probably would like seeing his new hairdo when they went to pick her up, the problem was Yennefer would think it was hilarious, and she would take pictures. But at least it felt nice to have fingers running through his hair again. 

Ever since Mr. Anderson’s death, Jaskier had been understandably skittish about having someone lay with their head in his lap while he played with their hair. It was one of Geralt’s favorite cuddling positions, but he would never ask for something that made the younger man uncomfortable.

“Fine.” Geralt negotiated. “But it’s going to be your problem if it gets tangled.”

“Of course.” Jaskier agreed. “I always take care of your hair. Honestly it’s a part time job at this point. I don’t even know how you manage to get so much paint in it.”

The older man just grunted and turned back to the book in his lap. Jaskier had been delighted when they took a detour on the way home and Geralt explained his plans for dinner and coffee. He had even volunteered to run in to pick up their orders, due to the fact that Geralt was, according to the younger man, “gross and smelly”. It mostly seemed to be an excuse to smuggle Roach into the coffee house so he could introduce her to his friends.

After a quick shower and a nice dinner they had settled in over coffee and dessert to actually discuss the book, “The Art of Cuddling”, while Jaskier played with Geralt’s hair. Roach, offended by having to mingle with commoners, had made herself scarce, after being hand fed a few beef scraps.

They had both agreed that the illustrations in the book were slightly ridiculous, and that a photoshoot was the classier option. Geralt had argued that the names for the positions were even more ridiculous, but Jaskier thought they were cute.

“Look,” Geralt continued their discussion, stopping on a page, and pointing at an illustration aggressively. There was a cartoon man and woman laying on a blob of color that might represent a bed, on their sides and facing each other, arms wrapped around upper bodies. Their legs were tangled together.

“Ooh. The Splish-Splash. That’s a nice one. Look at their legs, see how they both have one leg drawn up, like they’re about the step off a diving board?” 

They sort of did, Geralt guessed. The woman’s legs were on the outside of the tangle, but he could sort of see it. It still seemed like a stretch. “It’s still a ridiculous name. Couldn’t they have just numbered them?”

“It’s a cuddle session, Geralt, not a Burger King. You can’t just order a number 12 combo and expect to have the same experience.”

“It’s a lot less awkward than saying I want the Splish-Splash.” he grumbled.

Jaskier paused his braiding. “I actually hadn’t thought of it that way.” he admitted. “Most of my clients had no problem with the names, and you managed to get the point across by pointing and grunting.” The words were teasing and affectionate. “Do you think it would be a good idea to add numbers to my menu book?”

“Hmm.” Geralt replied, just to be contrary.

“I’ll buy some stickers this weekend.” Jaskier agreed, rolling the last braid up and pinning it. “Done.” he declared, and Geralt heard the click of a digital shutter as Jaskier took a picture. 

Geralt set the book aside, leaving it open to the illustration. “So what comes with the combo?” he asked, tugging Jaskier down to the floor and maneuvering them both into a position that matched the cartoon couple. Jaskier wrapped his leg around Geralt’s thigh, pulling him closer.

“Forehead smooches.” The younger man said seriously, pressing his lips between Geralt’s eyebrows. “And back rubs, beneath the shirt.” Words matched actions, and Jaskier was grinning at him. “Very scandalous.” warm hands traced patterns at the small of his back. Another kiss was smoothed over his shoulder before Jaskier snuggled down into the hold.

“Can anyone order the combo?” Geralt teased, bringing a hand up to play with the short hair on the nape of Jaskier’s neck.

“Nope. It’s only on the secret menu. You have to know how to order it, and that’s top secret information. Boyfriends only.”

“Lucky boyfriend.”

Jaskier laughed. “Well, he deserves special treatment. He is a very, very good boyfriend. By the way, Eskel spilled the beans about your plan to take Monday off.”

The rat. 

Monday was Jaskier’s first official day back at work. His client list had been pared down even more for the soft reopening of the business. The trust that Mr. Anderson had left for Jaskier meant that the younger man hovered somewhere between independently wealthy and obscenely wealthy. He definitely did not need to reopen just to keep a roof over his head. 

The financial freedom seemed to make it easier for Jaskier to decide to get back into the business. He could be even more selective of his clientele now, and the lighter load would mean that he wouldn’t be so exhausted at the end of the week. It would let him concentrate on the parts of the job he liked, the people. It had sounded, when they talked it all out, like the perfect solution.

But Geralt still worried. Jaskier hadn’t been back to the office at all yet, and the renovations were nearly complete. Aside from a trial run spooning on the couch with Lambert when his brothers had been invited over for a Sunday dinner, Jaskier hadn’t really cuddled anyone except Geralt and Triss in the month and a half since the Incident. That had gone fine, and his youngest brother seemed to be a convert. He had seen Jaskier slip Triss’ business card to the man, but hadn’t commented. Still, cuddling with a...family friend, in your own home was a lot different than being a professional cuddler, on the clock.

“I’ll be fine.” Jaskier pulled back so that he could see Geralt’s face. “Really. Look, I know it’s been pretty rough, and it will be a slow start but I’m ready to get back to work and there’s no need for you to lurk around the waiting room making my clients uncomfortable.”

“I had planned to lurk around the coffee shop and make their customers uncomfortable.” Geralt deadpanned. 

“That’s even worse.”

“It’s not up for debate. Vesemir is coming into town this weekend anyway, and he wants to work on the Johanson build so I’d just be in the way there. This way you know I’m right across the street just in case you need me.”

Vesemir, in fact, was coming into town because they were celebrating the reopening of Jaskier’s office with a family dinner, but that was beside the point. The point was Geralt wasn’t going to be an hour and a half away on Jaskier’s first day back

Jaskier sighed, tucking his head back down. “Well, at least you’ll be able to bring me coffee. That will be convenient.”


	33. Chapter Thirty Three

Geralt used his body to bar the door, trapping his family in Jaskier’s office. The younger man had just pulled up, and was climbing out of his car, lingering at the edge of the sidewalk.

“Okay, he’s coming. He hasn’t been back here yet, and it might not be easy for him, so when he gets to the door, do not mob him.” Geralt said. 

Ciri held up her hand.

“Mob means run up to him and crowd him.” Eskel explained, and Ciri put her hand back down.

“And no joking about dead people or ghosts.” Geralt demanded, and Lambert rolled his eyes.

Turning to Vesemir, Geralt felt he should probably warn the older man. “He might hug you. If he gets excited or emotional he just does that. So far I know he’s been really good about it, but it could happen.”

Vesemir grunted, looking displeased but generally seeming like he would accept his fate with as much grace as he could muster.

“Just, be careful alright. Try not to do anything that will upset him.”

And maybe he was going a little bit overboard with all of this, but Geralt was naturally a worrier. Jaskier had said he was ready to get back to work, and had even taken a more active role in choosing furniture and decorations for the renovation, but it was all still theory at this point.

Geralt also knew that he had to get all of this out of his system now. It wouldn’t help Jaskier at all if his partner was a nervous mess about this whole thing. And he wasn’t that nervous. Sometimes his family could be a little chaotic though, and they might need a reminder.

There was a knock on the door and Geralt jumped as the glass vibrated up his spine.

“I think it might upset him if we keep him locked out of his own office.” Eskel pointed out, helpfully.

Lambert took the more direct route, yanking Geralt away from the door and opening it enough so that Ciri could slip out. She flew straight into Jaskier’s legs, and then yanked at him until he crouched down for a proper hug. The rest of the troupe filed out at a slightly more sedate pace, though Lambert covertly shoved Eskel out of the way so that he could be next. 

After exchanging hugs with both brothers, and receiving a thump on the back from Vesemir, it was finally Geralt’s turn. He wrapped Jaskier up tightly, lifting him off his feet a little. He knew it was the younger man’s favorite type of hug, and he liked the little squeak of surprise that Jaskier made every single time. Once Jaskier had his footing again, Geralt stepped back, but held on to his hand.

“Thank you all so much.” Jaskier seemed almost at a loss for words, looking a little misty eyed again. “I really can’t tell you how much this means to me.” 

“You can save the speech for dinner” Vesemir said gruffly, but not unkindly, shifting his weight backwards as if he wanted to be able to escape quickly. “We’d better go if we want to have time to clean up before then.”

Vesemir and Jaskier had actually gotten along pretty well, though most of their interaction had been through emails and phone calls. Once Jaskier had moved in properly, he had started to feature in Ciri’s FaceTime chats with Grandpa as well. The younger man had slowly started to win Geralt’s foster father over with thoughtful home repair questions, or honest admiration of Vesemir’s latest woodworking project, not to mention the way he openly adored Vesemir’s oldest son.

But Vesemir still didn’t like the idea of cuddling, much less in a professional setting. Geralt tried not to bring it up.

“You’re not staying?” Jaskier asked, sounding a little disappointed.

Geralt shot them all warning looks over the younger man’s head. The arrangements had already been made, and they were in agreement. While the whole family had all helped renovate the building, and had been supportive of Jaskier through everything, Geralt still didn’t want to share this with them. They could come by later, but he wanted to show Jaskier the new office in private.

Lambert had nodded, solemnly agreed that the first time should be special, and then ran off, cackling, before Geralt could hit him. Ciri hadn’t been sure what was so funny, and Eskel had to distract her with a trip to the coffee shop across the street, while trying to hide his own smile.

But at least they had agreed to the plan.

“We’ll see you at the restaurant.” Eskel offered, “And we can walk back over afterwards.” He was trying to quickly herd both Lambert and Ciri into the truck. Vesemir was already in the driver’s seat.

“Oh. Okay then. Bye,” Jaskier lifted a hand to wave, as the truck sped away quickly. “I guess. Geralt, what did you do?” Turning, Jaskier swatted at his partner’s arm.

“They think we want to have sex in the new cuddle den to break it in.”

“No wonder they ran away.”

“Hmm” Geralt gave Jaskier’s hand a squeeze before letting it go so he could open the door. He held it open, and Jaskier hesitated.

“Come on.” Geralt encouraged, but didn’t demand. He could stand here all night with the door open, or he could lock it back up and they could try again tomorrow. It wasn’t up to him to decide when it was the right time.

Jaskier took a deep breath, and stepped into the office.

. . . .

“Oh wow.” Jaskier was almost turning circles in the small waiting room. “This looks amazing.”

The door to the cuddle den was shut, and a new partial wall shielded the the little office space from view, but most strikingly, all of the old cheap office carpeting and waiting room chairs were gone, along with the harsh strip lighting, replaced with wood flooring, low couches, and lamps that provided a warm glow. There were even some throw pillows and faux flower arrangements scattered artistically about. 

“Well, you picked out a lot of it,” Geralt reminded him. He hadn’t known if that would work out, Jaskier choosing stuff without actually seeing the space, but it had quickly become apparent that he had a knack for that sort of thing. Only a few pieces hadn’t fit exactly, and they had been quickly claimed for the house. 

“Are you okay in here?” he asked.

“It’s a little strange, honestly, but it doesn’t even feel like the same space. I feel like I stepped into another building entirely.” Jaskier was tracing his hands along the grey walls as he rounded the corner to his new semi-private office. 

“Oh. that’s not the desk I picked out. Geralt, This is gorgeous.” The desk that Jaskier had picked out, along with his old filing cabinets, were currently sitting in Morhen and Sons garage. While it had worked in the space okay, it did make a tight fit, and using it would be awkward for any length of time.

Vesemir had taken one look at the piece and had immediately demanded some measurements, showing up yesterday with a custom built desk made out of reclaimed wood. The drawers doubled as lockable file cabinets, and the whole thing was honestly, pretty impressive.

“You’re a beauty.” Jaskier seemed to be talking to the desk, running his fingers over the grain, and opening and shutting each drawer. “Absolutely stunning. I can’t believe Vesemir made this for me. And don’t tell me he didn’t. I’d know this work anywhere. Geralt, I am going to die if I don’t get to hug him for this!”

“Maybe, work up to that.” Geralt suggested fondly. While Vesemir could appreciate a good compliment about his work, he probably wouldn’t enjoy hearing Jaskier fawning over it, or his insistence that Vesemir could set up a shop downtown and sell his reclaimed furniture to rich hipsters for obscene amounts of money. Geralt had already listened to that particular speech a few times.

After a minute, Geralt was able to steer Jaskier back on course, where they quickly peeked at the bathroom, which had been updated as well, looking clean and polished, and the storage closet, which was still just a closet and not very remarkable. They ended up back in front of the closed door to the cuddle den.

Jaskier took another shaky breath, and Geralt reached out to take his hand. “Come on. I’ll show you what it looks like. We’ll leave the door open and we can come back out here and sit if you want to, or go outside. Sneak out the back for some coffee.” 

They shared a small smile.

The door opened and Geralt stepped inside, letting Jaskier just stand in the doorway and look.

And it really did look like a completely different building. The flooring of course was more of the same faux-reclaimed wood that was in the waiting room, complimenting the fake brick that lined one wall. The small refrigerator and table that had been tucked away in one corner, had become a coffee bar, sitting between two windows along the nearest wall. The windows were fake as well, with remote controlled lights behind them to mimic daylight, and the blurry suggestion of a cityscape through the drawn shades. 

Jaskier had called it set dressing when Geralt had teased him about how many things in the office were actually fake. From the windows, to the walls, and even the majority of the plants. But he had to admit, the effect was pretty realistic. It felt like he was in an old city high rise somewhere.

On the other end of the room was a bed, unobtrusive for how large it was, with a soft grey quilt and an eclectic collection of pillows. 

Between the coffee bar and the bed sat a wide leather couch and two matching arm chairs, arranged around a large, artistically distressed coffee table that had iron pipe fittings for legs. Geralt had not agreed to the coffee table.

The couch was angled so that it faced the windows and chairs. Against the wall a small electric fireplace sat, it’s imitation flames flickering on a bed of glass pebbles. The entire effect was a calming space that bordered on the slightly hipster.

Jaskier made a slow circuit around the room, touching different things as Geralt explained them. They stopped first by a set of narrow shelves hanging on the wall. A few books from Mr. Anderson’s library, mostly poetry, along with Jaskier’s menu and a dog eared, post it note filled, copy of the Art of Cuddling were spread around, propped up by various old bookends, and interspersed with Jaskier’s scented candle collection.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d want them here.” Geralt said, uncertain. “If you don’t think-”

“No. I think it’s wonderful. A very fitting tribute.” Jaskier’s voice was quiet. “We were reading through The Hobbit the last month. I’ll bring that in tomorrow too.”

He moved on, and with a smile he leaned over the vase of sunflowers sitting on a low shelf, running a gentle finger over the yellow petals. 

“There’s a fake arrangement in the closet” Geralt pointed out, “But I thought it would be nice to have real ones this week. They’re, uh, like the ones from our first date.”

“They’re lovely.” Jaskier said, shifting some of the scented candles over to make room. He pulled out a small framed picture from his bag to set beside the vase. It was a photo of Geralt, Ciri and Jaskier, all scrunched in tight to fit into a selfie. That was the first weekend that they had been at the Victorian house, after Geralt and Jaskier had decided to move in together. 

Ciri had loved playing in the yard, and had spent all weekend trying to find hidden passageways or talk to ghosts, with much encouragement from the younger man. After she had gone back home, Geralt had immediately been tasked with actually creating a hidden room before Ciri’s vacation started, and Jaskier had found where he could buy a door that was disguised as a bookcase. There was even a large closet on the first floor that would be perfect. Jaskier had also been rummaging around antique stores, looking for weird and creepy things to decorate it with.

“There.” Jaskier declared, pulling out a small picture of Roach and tucking it into a corner of the frame. “Now, it’s perfect.”

“I have the same picture on my lockscreen” It was Geralt’s favorite, the three of them together and smiling.

“I know, that’s why I love it so much.”

Geralt squeezed his hand and they moved on to the coffee bar. “The refrigerator is already stocked.” he said, opening the squat, retro looking appliance to show off a selection of bottled tea, water, grape sodas, and even a few beers. “The trash can is under the sink, and the bottle opener is here.” he tapped on the front of a drawer. “Along with your dried tea.”

“Loose tea” Jaskier corrected.

Geralt grunted. “Cups and Electric Kettle are obvious.” Those sat right out on the counter. 

He had worried about the tea as well, wondering if it would remind Jaskier too much of Mr. Anderson. Eskel had solved that issue by taking a dozen little jars to the co-op and getting almost every type of tea they had, reasoning that they all tasted different so he should be able to find one he liked that wasn’t too similar to the throat soothing stuff he had been drinking so much of towards the end.

Jaskier took his time, opening each drawer and door. “It was never this organized before. This is great. I can’t wait to try it out.”

“No time like the present.” Geralt said, grabbing a beer and a soda out of the fridge and popping their tops off, before handing the soda to Jaskier. The younger man took a few sips, content to just look around the room. 

“It looks a lot different.” he finally declared, leaning back against Geralt’s chest. “But everything is different now, so it seems appropriate. I could never have imagined this a year ago.”

“We’re both still here.” 

“Not entirely.” Jaskier disagreed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not the same man who your brothers hired. Well, I am, but I’m more now. And you are less.”

Geralt tilted his head. “That clears it up a lot.” He said, dryly. 

“You are less guarded, less scared of your own feelings. Less alone, I’d like to think. Less prickly.”

“And you’re more full of shit, I suppose.” 

“Thank you Geralt. Very romantic. I’m also happier. More cared for.”

“More loved.” Geralt supplied.  
“You’re a giant sap, and don’t let anyone tell you differently.” Jaskier said, affectionately. “Let’s go sit down.”

Despite his words Jaskier hesitated for a moment, then, with a determined expression, he sat the bottle down, marched over and plopped down right in the middle of the couch. Geralt followed him over, standing with his hands on the back of a chair.

“I think I almost expected it to bite me.” Jaskier admitted, laughing at himself a little. “Have you tried it out yet? It’s actually really comfortable.” 

“Not yet.” Geralt had sat on the couch, obviously, but it wasn’t exactly like he could test it out for a proper cuddle by himself, and the only other options had been his brothers, which, no. He came over to perch on the edge of one cushion. 

“Oh, absolutely not.” Jaskier chastised him. “Come on, shoes off, feet up.” 

Geralt did as he was told, throwing one arm up over the back of the couch. Jaskier wriggled his way under the lifted arm, curling into his partner’s side, just like when they had first met. Their feet knocked together on the coffee table.

“Comfortable.” Geralt decided. “Is this okay?”

“This is fine. It really is.” Jaskier assured him. “I know you were worried. So was I. But now? Seeing this? I can’t wait to get started again. You really did change everything. It’s beautiful.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it.” Jaskier said. He might have been talking about the building, but the little declaration seemed to have another depth to it. The younger man liked to stuff three or four different meanings into things, without seeming to realize it. It had taken Geralt a little while to put it together, but he could translate pretty well at this point. 

What Jaskier meant was “I love this office. And all the work you’ve done, and that you cared about me enough to do all this work. I love my work, and I love that I have a safe place to work in again.” It also meant “I love you.”

“I love you.” Geralt said, tightening his hold, dropping his chin to rest against the top of Jaskier’s head.

What Geralt meant was “I love you.”

Jaskier lifted Geralt’s hand up his lips, pressing a soft kiss against the knuckles before lowering their joined palms to his lap, and they sat together in silence, staring out of the fake windows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for sticking with me to the end, and all of the kudos and comments you left. I've been amazed at the outpouring from you guys and it makes me feel so appreciated! It's been a huge privilege to share my first novel length story with you guys and I love that you've all connected with the cuddle!verse and enjoyed it.


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